(Author's note: I don't claim any knowledge of Christa McAuliffe's life. This is simply historical fanfiction, allowed under the FFNET TOS. Yep. That's me covering my butt.)
"There's something wrong with this picture. I know it. You know it. Why aren't we doing anything?"
Goddard and Harlan, of course, were totally not listening. The Commander was almost giddy… Which was rare for him. The normally stoic STARDOG was seriously smiling from ear to ear, and Harlan, standing off to the side of the Helm, was doing likewise. Since they'd boarded the Christa years ago, neither Goddard nor Davenport had ever been able to do anything with the Christa… Until now.
Radu was more observant than the other two – Bova gave him that much credit at least. The Andromedan wore a smile, though it was rather uneasy. Yes, Radu was wondering about the implications of this, too. It seemed harmless enough, though; all-in-all, the Commander was just getting a chance to fly the ship, and there was nothing wrong with that, on the surface.
On the surface.
Bova shook his head, grunting a bit as he idly ran the side of his hand along the surface of one of the shield indicators on his console. There wasn't anything for him to do, really… It didn't seem like the Christa had any sort of weapons systems, and while that meant one less thing on the list that could potentially cause an explosion, it also meant there was no checks or maintenance that Bova could perform on the tactical system to keep himself busy while he was bored. And it wasn't that he was bored. Just frustrated. And a frustrated scientific mind is a potentially dangerous one.
"Are you guys even listening to me?"
It was like a brand new video game. Everyone was watching the screen, even though they'd seen the same space before. The same stars. The same small asteroids and blackness, and that interesting looking nebula over to the right that had been on their monitors for a week already. The solar system on their left, whose sun was feeding their ion glide for the time being.
"Oh, look! We're being hailed by Spung! I'll let them aboard!"
No response.
Bova sighed. "I decided to take our life support offline. We were gonna die anyway. Is that okay, Miss D.?"
"Fine, dear. Just put it back when you're done." She reached over to push on a crystal. The ship responded by slightly increasing in speed.
The Uranusian rubbed his temples before dramatically dragging his hand down over his face, stretching out his bottom eyelids, before rather unceremoniously slamming his forehead down on his console in frustration.
"You think something's wrong?"
When Bova looked up, he saw Rosie standing next to him. She was leaning over the shield indicators, as if looking for something technical. Typical. Why didn't they understand that it wasn't always the technicalities that tore things apart? Sometimes, it was just a feeling. They should have realized it… Why, in three years of piloting this ship, had Goddard never been able to take control of it? Why didn't it bother them that suddenly, he could?
"Yeah, I do."
At least Rosie listened. Her pale eyes looked from the indicators to Bova, who was wearing a rather concerned expression. Rosie knew how to read him the best out of all of them… she seemed to have some sort of empathic talent that the others didn't possess. Frankly, it worried her that Bova was showing any expression at all; normally, he was rather unreadable. The Mercurian tilted her head, waiting for her friend to go on.
"…No one finds it odd that the Commander's piloting the ship."
Rosie bit her bottom lip, brow furrowing as she searched for a response to that. Yeah, it had bothered her, too. But the Commander was happy, the rest of the crew was happy… "Maybe Christa decided to give him the chance to…"
Bova shook his head.
Bova was not happy.
Granted, 'happy' for Bova was everyone else's indifference or melancholy. The problem in this case was that he was displaying an actual state of being upset – also not normal.
"Rosie, you stay here. I'm going to think. When Suzee gets back, have her monitor the engines, alright? I have a feeling."
Without waiting for a response, Bova hopped down from the console. His path took him right behind the rest of the crew, gathered at the Helm, though no one really noticed. Goddard was busy showing Miss D. how to actually steer the ship, and Harlan was cracking jokes about how all the other ships in the area probably should have stayed home today. They were all amused…
Bova was not amused.
Knowing the code by heart, he hit the crystal combination on the jumptube control that would take him to the galley… Food for thought. That was one of his many mottos… And in order to think, he needed to eat. Especially now. Something was amiss, and while Bova hadn't thought of it yet, a little pondering would certainly do the trick. That, and a Uranusian sandwich, or whatever the food wheel decided to spit out at him.
No one noticed as he climbed into the jumptube. It was sad, in a way… though at least he was free to get something done while they were all up there making fools of themselves. Letting go of the wall, Bova allowed the air current to carry him toward his destination. The network was like a maze, though luckily, the ship had the ability to store thousands of destinations at a time… And it only had to worry about a handful of people!
There was a sudden jolt.
Nothing to worry about. It had happened before.
Except for the fact that a minute later, Bova found himself rolling across the floor of a very dark, very cold room.
"What am I doing in the cargo hold?" he wondered.
***
Cold?
Shivering, she actually pulled the blankets around her more tightly before she realized that she was actually registering that it was cold.
Suddenly, Christa sat bolt-upright, realizing that in the course of her sleep, she had somehow come unplugged from the wall… That meant she was actually sleeping. That was when she noticed that the bands that once connected around both her forearms were gone, replaced by pale skin. It was warm to the touch… Except that she was so very cold…
Am I alive? she wondered.
No, not entirely. She still had a connection with the ship. With Thelma? Yes, it was Thelma. Thelma was her connection to the ship. Upon closer inspection, Christa could see that she was not entirely alive, though she was quite a bit closer than she had been when she fell asleep.
"Thelma…? What's going on?"
The data exchanged between them took less than a heartbeat. The android did not know. The only thing she could think of was that Christa had desired to be real. So she was becoming real. Real! She would be like the others! Like one of the crew! It would be so much easier to teach them the things she wanted to teach when they didn't have to look into the cold face of an android!
"I've gotta get to the Command Post," she said to herself. Perhaps to the walls, or to Thelma, too.
Still finding herself to be quite cold, she dug through one of the bunkroom's drawers, finding a uniform that was still neatly folded. One that hadn't been used in close to a year… A double helix on one shoulder, a series of bright triangles down the front. Christa remembered the pattern. Remembered the fact that the jacket used to belong to Catalina… A crew member lost – sort of – to an explosion.
"I can't fill your shoes. But I can be that crew member that they lost. I know I can."
The uniform was actually a good fit. Leaving Thelma's clothing folded on the bunk, Christa, now wearing a Starcademy Uniform, decided to take the jumptubes for the first time ever.
***
"Hey, Suzee!"
It was sort of a nervous habit, attributed by most to vanity, but Suzee idly flipped a strand of red hair behind her ear. She still wasn't quite used to being here instead of home, though the Yensidian did her best to project a confidant aura to the others. Sometimes it came off as annoying, which she was beginning to realize more and more.
Catalina prodded her friend idly. Her hand went right through, of course, though Suzee noticed it anyway. Blue eyes met green for a moment. "Suzee, Rosie's talkin' to you."
Suzee offered a nod to the dimensionally-challenged Saturnian, then, thinking better of it and remembering what Christa had said earlier, she added a "Thank you" as well.
Offering a smile, she stepped around Catalina to head toward the engineering console – which Rosie was currently monitoring. That was odd… As far as anyone knew, Rosie had very little interest in the technical aspect of the Christa, and preferred working in the medlab than anywhere else. She was good at talking to people, too. Of all the people to assign to engineering during Suzee's absence, Rosie was perhaps the least expected.
"What's up, Rosie?" Suzee finally asked, stepping up onto the podium housing the console. Catalina leaned over it, idly glancing at the readings, which seemed to be normal.
"Oh, Bova just wanted you to take a look at the engines. I think." Rosie looked rather blankly at the console, tilting her head and frowning just a bit. She didn't understand what any of it meant, really, except that the lights flashed now and then, and they were kinda pretty. Cat had once told her that one of the crystals measured the flow of ions from the ion glide into the protomix, but she couldn't remember for the life of her which one it was. Right now, they were all kinda glowing gently… Not brightly lit at all. But that was good – at least, Rosie thought it was good. If they were too bright, it meant there was something really wrong. If they were too dim, it meant something was really, really wrong.
That, in a nutshell, was the Mercurian's knowledge of the engines.
"They look fine to me, Suzee," Cat said, shrugging. Then again, she was seeing everything through a rather thick haze, plus she hadn't actually monitored engineering in nearly a year. Sure, she'd looked over Suzee's shoulder sometimes, but with the inability to actually manipulate anything, the Saturnian paid very little attention. "…But, if you want to take a look…"
After hesitating for a moment, Suzee said, "No, I believe you, Cat."
Rosie stared for a moment, then caught herself. "…You're talking to Cat?" she asked, at the same time Cat said, "You're talking to me?"
They believe you, Suzee, she told herself. They believe that Catalina exists. That she's not imaginary. They aren't going to make fun of you.
Still, it was hard. Memories of talking to her invisible friend in school were clouded by the taunts of ill-meaning classmates. They'd labeled Suzee a dreamer. They'd labeled Cat a dreamer. Suzee wanted so badly to rise above that path set out for her that she'd nearly ruined that friendship…
"Yeah," Suzee returned confidently. She hoped the smile on her face was convincing enough. When Rosie offered her a reassuring smile, though, that was enough to turn the unsure, fake smile into a real one… Rosie wasn't going to tease her, at least, and that really meant a lot. But Harlan…?
The dark earther turned from his post next to the Helm, and offered a smile of his own. "Hey, tell Rainbow-Head I say 'hi.'"
They still didn't get it. After all the years they'd all been together in Starcademy, they still didn't understand… "She can hear you," said Suzee, looking up toward Harlan. That was odd, that he was standing next to the Helm instead of on it. Normally, it took a cosmic phenomenon to divert the boy from piloting the ship… It was then that her eyes fell upon Commander Goddard, who was doing the piloting, with Miss Davenport right next to him… About to say something else, Suzee killed the comment before speaking it.
Leaving Rosie standing at engineering, the Yensidian approached the Helm, standing just on the other side of Harlan.
"Maybe you should take a look at this, Suz," Catalina mused, glancing over the indicators again. Now that she'd actually been looking at them for a while, they did seem kind of dim.
Suzee simply waved her off without speaking a word. Rolling her eyes, Catalina crossed her arms in front of her. "Well! That was certainly short-lived."
Too bad no one else could hear her. And with her best friend moving out of her circle of sight into the dimension, Cat had no choice but to follow, leaving Rosie sitting alone once more, staring at the pretty lights as they flashed on and off.
"So, when did this happen?" Suzee asked, as Goddard once more handed the controls back to Harlan. The commander was absolutely beaming.
"You know, it's been years since I've gotten to pilot a Starship," he said, looking around at the Christa as if seeing it for the first time. He took in every detail, from the odd, living walls to the smooth metallic floor. Everything.
"I do see why you like piloting so much," Davenport added. She, too, wore a smile… Not one of her tense smiles, either. She'd actually been enjoying herself! Perhaps, Suzee thought, Christa gaining the ability to communicate with the crew was the best thing that ever happened to the ship.
***
"Okay. I'm in the cargo hold."
For the tenth time, Bova attempted to enter the jumptubes. For the tenth time, he was spit right back out into the cargo hold.
"………Okay. I'm in the cargo hold."
***
Christa traveled through the jumptubes at speeds that she couldn't even comprehend. It was a total rush… Never before had she experienced anything like it! And the best part of it was that she could feel it! The air rushing over her skin, tousling the half-wire, half-blonde tassle of hair that loosely draped over the metal plate that covered her head. The anticipation in her stomach as she waited for the ship to release her into the command post… There! Light, just ahead! She could almost make it out…
In the back of her mind, though, she felt as if something was wrong… Something she couldn't quite pinpoint… Someone in need of help.
Thelma? She wondered.
Christa desperately hoped nothing would go wrong to spoil this. It was all so perfect! She was alive! And she was about to tell the crew everything. She couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces…
Nothing would go wrong. Nothing would go wrong.
The light grew nearer, and soon, Christa felt the network of air brakes built into the system slowing her down… It was almost disappointing, until she realized that at any time, she could soar through the jumptubes again. It was such a rush. So exciting. She hadn't lived in so long…
Then, her feet were on the floor. Sinking to her knees, a huge smile plastered on her face, she breathed the words she'd just been thinking. "That was seriously fun."
It wasn't until she had pushed herself back to her feet that she noticed that everyone was staring at her… It made sense, though. After all, she was closer to being alive now than she was the last time they'd seen her. Their eyes were alight with varying emotions… Of unrecognition, and awe, and worry… Seth – the commander – didn't really seem to be registering anything as he stood just next to the Helm. He just wore a rather goofy grin on his face, and Christa found it reassuring and relaxing. She was here. She was here to care for them all, and there was nothing for them to be afraid of anymore.
Her eyes scanned them, committing their individual reactions to memory. Suzee was awed… Of course, she would be. Perhaps later Christa would sit down and talk to her (And Catalina) about what it was like to be part machine. Suzee would understand it somewhat, of course, since for a brief time, the Yensidian had actually been the android instead of Thelma. The recollection was vague in Christa's mind, and it had frightened her when it happened. She didn't understand… But now…
Harlan and Rosie simply smiled. Warm smiles. Somewhat confused smiles.
"What do you think?" Christa asked. No one really knew what to say.
Then, Radu offered, "Where's Thelma?" in a conversational tone.
"With the ship," Christa offered, equally conversationally. She willed Radu to drop the subject. Had to say something before he pursued it! Could she tell them? Bova wasn't here… That was okay… she couldn't wait. Nothing could ruin this. Nothing!
Gathering her jumbled thoughts into a single statement, she said, "I've rested… If you've got time, I have so much I've wanted to tell you."
"But… What happened to you?" Radu wondered, touching a gloved hand to Christa's bare one. He could feel that she was warm to the touch, even through the cloth. He could hear a heartbeat, too – faint, and secondary to the processing unit that allowed Thelma to function, but it was there.
"The Christa's morphing capabilities," Miss Davenport supplied. She noted idly that it was Catalina's uniform that Christa had chosen to wear, and wondered if Catalina minded or not. Davenport wasn't exactly one-hundred percent comfortable with the idea, and as she placed a hand on Christa's shoulder, her eyes fell upon the helix design there. It denoted her as an engineer… Which made sense, since Christa basically was the ship. But she was so used to the memory of another student… A student that was lost under her supervision. There really hadn't been anything anyone could have done, but still… T.J. Davenport wondered what would happen if maybe that Helix decided to disappear again. Would she feel responsible for Christa, too?
No.
Yes.
Christa considered telling them that she'd not been the one to initiate the change, but thought better of it. Perhaps she'd get to it at the end of her story… Perhaps not. Six pairs of eyes were staring at her, waiting for her to tell them… And she would. She would teach. After all, it was what she was born to do…
"…There were seven of us, but we didn't sneak aboard our ship. This mission was months in planning…"
***
"You ready, Christa?"
In all actuality, she wasn't. Tense, shivering, the teacher had been through countless training exercises before. Every possible problem had been covered over and over. She knew exactly what to expect when experiencing weightlessness. Was prepared for reentry in seven says after their mission was completed. Knew that safe in the cargo hold, there was a camera and broadcasting equipment ready… She'd be giving a live broadcast to her students on day two of the voyage.
Everything was according to procedure. By the books. Rule after rule had been committed to memory.
And now, she was strapped to a seat, vision blurry as she waited to be carried into space in a rocket ship that once upon a time no one had dreamed would ever exist.
She calmed herself by wondering about things… How the broadcast would go, how her students would react, and most of all, how she couldn't wait to get back. Not that she wasn't very excited about being selected for the Teacher in Space program – she was very thrilled! It was just that these past few months had been so full of stress, she couldn't wait to get back to that plain old everyday life she valued so highly.
Seven days, she told herself. Seven days to change the world. Seven days until it's back to normal.
Was the rest of the crew so on edge? She looked to the seat next to her. Strapped into it was Michael Smith, the mission's pilot… He was smiling at her, though Christa could barely see the through the dark-tinted visor over his eyes. She smiled back at him… Hearing the first of the countdown echoing through the ship's radio…
"Ten…"
Ten years ago, she'd dreamed of this.
"Nine. Eight. Seven. Six."
The flight had been delayed for six days. Numerous complications. Perhaps that was some sort of warning… Maybe they should have listened…
"Five."
A mission necessity. Retrieval of a satellite on day five. Mission protocol.
"Four. Three."
There was no turning back.
"Two."
The noise was deafening.
"One."
This was it!
"Liftoff. We have liftoff."
The shuttle shuddered as it lifted off the ground. Christa momentarily thought perhaps the soup she had for breakfast that morning might have been a bad idea… Her stomach was tied up in knots for about three seconds, and then she relaxed. That was the hard part, right? The hard part was over…
Warning alarms all around her. The crew strapped in, unable to react… Michael worked furiously at her side to get himself free, though by the time he'd gotten himself out, every red light in the shuttle was blinking red.
It was too late.
And yet, Christa was surprisingly calm… She would live on somehow. Someway.
She didn't even feel it when it happened.
And that was it.
***
I can feel you…Yes, I know.
Christa…?
Yes?
You must have been very strong, for your spirit to survive something like that. Do you remember what happened?
No.
You're dead, Sharon Christa McAuliffe.
Dead?
Yes. But we can feel you. And we want to help you. We want to guide you.
I'm… dead?
Do you accept?
Do I have a choice?
…There is always a choice.
…I accept.
The darkness faded slowly. It became shapes and senses that she could feel, but couldn't actually see. Not in the conventional means, anyway. Not like she was looking through her eyes at someone, and yet she could sense his presence, standing before her. A delicate pink hand resting on her somewhere, with golden eyes looking gently over her.
"We're calling you The Christa."
I? The Christa?A bronze creature was there, too. Like a human, though only partially real. She repeated Christa's thoughts. "I? The Christa?"
"We found your soul," the pink-fingered creature said. It was bird-like, Christa decided, as she looked at it – no – sensed it. She no longer "saw." The bird-creature continued. "It was very strong. It carried the will to survive… We look for souls like yours, Christa, though most of them are Lumanian. You must have had a strong hold on your life for your soul to last dormant this long in the coldness of space.
"And so we place you into this Starship. Your memory. Your legacy. And we hope that somehow you can find your way home."
I am a Starship?"I am a Starship?" the android repeated.
"Christa, my name is Esk. This is Thelma… Techno-Human Emulating Machine." The bird-creature smiled."We are the Lumanians, and we reward strength. Yours, Christa, was a strength we value highly. We've given you command of this living ship. We name it after you, Christa."
"She is confused," Thelma said.
Esk nodded. "I understand. Which is why we shall send you off with a crew. You will journey toward the Sol system… Your memories tell us that you hail from that sector. Things will happen as they must, you understand. The future, the past, all woven into one. And here, we give you your present, Christa, both in the sense of time, and as a gift. You wished to touch the future. You wish to teach. We give you this chance.
Thank you, Christa said.
"Thank you," Thelma repeated.
"You understand what must happen," Esk cautioned. Christa could see it clearly. She didn't like it, but she could see it.
This is the only way.
"This is the only way," Thelma translated.
In order to find yourself, you must observe, human, Esk said, speaking directly to Christa now. Perhaps one day you will speak with them again.
I understand, Christa said. She could feel the warmth from the ship, truly living now that it had been given a soul.
"Then go with Speed, Christa. And may you discover that which you desire."