I

He silently stared out the window, into the blackness of space. There, in the distant cluster of tiny lights, he searched, looking for just one that would strike some sort of familiarity. If he hadn't any responsibility the youth would have no problem with spending the whole day gazing out at those speckled lights, picking out the one or two he'd seen over the past week and noting just how far they'd progressed. Almost as if they had life of their own, the stars brightly fought against the emptiness surrounding them. Each fighting its hardest to be seen billions of light years away from it stood, and fighting to outshine one another as well. And even though each was working independently, it was all of them together that painted what otherwise would have been a void of black emptiness.

He admired the stars and their boldness. None of the large lights of the sky ever hesitated to show its true form. They bared their soul freely with everything they had to the universe around them, unfazed by whomever thought to gaze upon them. Stars were true to themselves, and they had no trouble depicting this. They were free and unashamed.

If stars were people, he wondered, would they continue to be so carefree? Or would they roll into their own little balls, hiding their light from those around them?

Humans, so concerned with perceptions and appearances would surely succumb to the darkness of space were they to become stars. Some would shine, he was sure of that. But over time, they too would reach their limit of opening their soul to any prying eyes that choose to look upon them. They would lock themself away, hoarding their true self to themself.

"Faust," the voice called his attention, the thin man turning at its sound.

Faust was still a young man, his face a mix of eagerness and some form of longing that had yet to be settled. His longer blonde hair naturally wrapped around his head, revealing a strong and sturdy chiseled face beneath.

Looking in at the small living quarters, in front of a double set of bunks, he could see the worried face of one of his shipmates, Glen Albricht. Glen hadn't ever met Faust before the colonization's departure, but the man seemed to have all the qualities Faust lacked. Friendly and outspoken, the kid barely in his mid-twenties managed to hit off a meaningful conversation with just about anyone he crossed paths with. No doubt one of those humans that would shine for a time as a star before closing away into darkness.

Glen, having seen the other giving out his attention to him, let a wide smile grace his face. "Faust, were you looking for it again?"

"It's one of those out there," Faust answered, walking over to his bunk and pulling open a small storage drawer. While the contents of the drawer were neatly organized, the sheer bulk of items it contained forced him to juggle a few things before seizing his target from within.

Glen followed his movements, his short brown hair in place as he made his way over to the bunk beside him. Faust pulled open a small notebook, revealing a star chart sketched in rough pencilled curves. He ran his finger in tune with his short-term memory, and then jotted down the date next to one of the stars. The last such recording had been a little over a week ago. Glen gave a downcast sigh. "You know, we'll most likely never see it again."

With one swift motion, the other snapped the book closed. "I don't need to see the Earth to know it's there. From memory, I can still see it as clearly as the day we left."

Glen nodded, but it was obvious he didn't share the other's opinion. The Earth had disappeared the same moment he could no longer see it from the ship's viewpoints. It was no big deal to him, though. After all, this whole colony would be bound to reach a safe way point somewhere in the vast galaxy. With a new planet to call home, Earth would be nothing more than an old memory, a legend of the past. A former settlement of mankind.

Still, with a determination that seemed uncharacteristic to him, Faust had gone through almost ritualistic documentation of Earth's position based on the ship's course. Glen had no doubt the other could point out the Earth's sun from all the other dim stars out there without fail.

It was almost pointless, though. After all, Earth would soon be only a legend.

"Hasmond was looking for you again today, Faust. I'd watch yourself. We may be millions of light years from home, but the officers still like to keep together the order of the crew."

Faust shoved the drawer shut, and leaned against the bedframe, tired of hearing his project leader's name over and over again. "It would make no difference to Hasmond whether or not I was there. Either way, he'd have something to say."

"At least if you were there, you could stick up for yourself," his friend reasoned. "Faust, you're one of the nicest guys I know on this ship. A little too nice for your own good. You need to take command of things, and stop letting others push you around."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Glen almost considered retracting his comment, but eventually decided against it. It was true that Faust never objected to anyone. He would stand there, unmoving in the presence of a lecturing superior, never once raising a single point of argument. Faust shook his head slowly, breaking up his movements as the room's third occupant broke in noisily.

"You can thank me later," Joy Hughlick shot to Faust as he dug into the room's hamper, looking through the mess of dirty clothing.

Joy wasn't all too bad looking as far as the crewmembers went, but his personality was enough to force even Glen to try hard to put up with. He was born with a chiseled face straight out of a romance novel, finely toned muscles, and straight well kept hazel hair. He usually went around the ship with a large phony smile on his face. It gave the impression of a man trying his hardest to get your trust just so he could knife you in the back. And if the opportunity arose, Glen wouldn't put it past him.

Faust and Glen exchanged questionable glances before taking Joy's baited comment.

"What now, Joy?" Faust voiced to the other's backside.

Apparently, Joy was too content with his search to follow up on his earlier declaration. With a delayed reaction, he lifted his head from the pile to give Faust one of those troubling smiles that always made the man nervous. This one was less fake then his standard "trust" smile, but it was scary in its own right, as if Joy were plotting something horrible and irreversible.

"What, you say? I covered your ass, my old buddy. When Hasmond came by with the usual contempt as he passed your empty station, I set in and made it right."

Faust rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "You shouldn't have done that, Joy. If I-"

"Like I said, you can thank me later, Faust. It wasn't that big of a deal."

Glen took a careful step into the discussion. "If you don't mind my asking, Joy, just how did you set things right?"

The other turned back to the dirty pile, tossing a few soiled shirts on the floor after looking them over. "You know, a lot of these things aren't really that stinky. You guys could probably lighten the laundry load tenfold if you wore them an extra day or two."

"Joy," Glen huffed, not letting him drop the subject. "What did you do?"

An unfolded shirt in front of him, Joy cocked his head as if hearing the question for the first time. "Oh, not anything big. I just told Hasmond that Faust had been admitted to the medical wing this morning, and that was why he wasn't able to make it."

He reached his hand into the shirt's front pocket, triumphantly pulling a pair of crushed cigars from it. Then, losing all interest in the hamper, not to mention the pile he had thrown to the floor, he receded to his bunk on the bottom.

"The medical wing?" Faust tried his best to remember the last time he'd had to go there.

"You idiot!" Glen stomped on Joy's toes. "You know what'll happen if Hasmond checks the records and finds that Faust here wasn't in the medical wing this morning?"

Joy shrugged, fiddling with his quirky lighter, and ignoring the toe stomp. The flame finally sparked to life, and he inhaled his cigar slowly. "I wouldn't worry about it. He won't bother doing that. The guy's got too many other things to do about this ship than tracking down one truant scientist."

As if in direct response, the room's announcement speaker sparked to life, a cold, almost lifeless voice emitting from it. "Gerhardt Faust report to facility B-62 immediately."

Both shot him a sharp look.

"In this case, I suppose you don't need to thank me anymore, if you don't want," Joy reasoned.

Facility B-62 was the seldom-used backup science facility. Doctor Gene Hasmond had fashioned it into his own personal office, bringing in with his person extra pieces of lounge furniture as well as a few genetic experiments. The room had a rough, artificial smell to it, despite the presence of the living plant life sprouted around it.

Faust stepped in to find his project's leader studying the branch of a tiny cherry tree, plucking a small pink blossom from it, and then playing with the petals in his hands. He tried clearing his throat to get the other's attention, but failed to do so. He finally tried speaking. "I must admit that tree is beautiful, sir. It isn't too often I get to see your private work."

Hasmond let the blossom fall from his palm, the living tissue gracefully fluttering to the cold, sterile floor. He dropped his hands to his side before turning his face to look at Faust. "You weren't present today again," his wrinkled lips mumbled.

The other averted his gaze. "I was preoccupied elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" Hasmond raised his right eyebrow. "Do you mean the medical wing?"

Faust let out a sigh, unable to argue the point. "No, sir. I was in my quarters, contrary to what others may believe."

Hasmond circled the room, taking the long way around to meet his guest. With each step, the floor resounded with an even echo. "Need I remind you how important our efforts are to the colony? I cannot recall how many times I've enlightened you on that subject."

"I know our work is crucial to our survival in space, and our eventual home, sir," Faust released with a defeatist tone. "Still, I am only one of many on the project. How could my absence ever make much of a difference?"

Hasmond stopped, furrowing his brow. "Every single person makes a difference, no matter how little they think it may be. I've had seventy years to see this firsthand, Gerhardt.

"I used to think like you did. I used to ponder the whole cosmos. Out there, gazing at the billions of stars, I would look at these small hands and wonder, 'if this speck of a man had never existed, would that cosmos have given a damn?'"

"It's a wonderful life," Faust mumbled.

"Certainly," he continued, missing the surreptitious pun. "I'm depending on all of them, and you as well, Faust. And beyond that, we humans are dependent on plants to survive. Every scientist we have is important. We must continue to do as we have, ensuring that wherever our journey takes us, these plants will live as well."

It was somewhat humbling to be reminded of mankind's dependence on another organism every day of his research, and now again with Hasmond's lecturing, but Faust was in agreement. As their project progressed in this artificial construct, the spaceship Mesopotamia, Hasmond's group was the critical unit that kept the very heart of the Earth with them in a natural state.

"Of all our team," Hasmond continued, his voice slightly breaking up, "you continue to be the most troublesome. Still, you are also the most capable."

Faust was taken aback. This was the first time in all these months he had heard his superior ever pass him a compliment. "Well, thank you, sir."

Hasmond coughed. "I find this hard to admit, but I believe I never should have left Earth. I'm not as hardy as I was in my younger years. Leaving home is beginning to take a toll on me."

"Sir?"

He weakly smiled. "If my health continues to go the way it has, you men might be spending just as much time caring for me as you would my experiments. I'm ready to resign."

"You can't resign, Mr. Hasmond. You are truly the core of our development. Without your guidance, we- we wouldn't know what to do."

"You know quite well what to do, Gerhardt. I've watched you and your attempts at space conditioning. You've been the first of your colleagues to have your subject fully grow in this coldness of space. With minimal heat, light, and water, you've produced vegetation far healthier than those I've even seen on Earth."

"I can improve, sir. I promise to be present and on-time every day. I'll work harder than ever, if you'll only stay with us. We still have a long way to go. We still have not been able to-"

Hasmond snorted softly. "I've made my decision, Gerhardt, and it will be final. I wouldn't be much use anymore. You, on the other hand, are the one I think would do the colony proud."

"Me?"

"You said yourself that you would work harder, and show more dedication to the job at hand. This should be possible, with or without me. You are a natural born leader. Take our group and create the garden of future humanity."

"And then the old guy turned around and put you in charge?" Joy balked in disbelief. "You've got to give me some time to wrap my mind around this, buddy, 'cause I've never seen Hasmond ever say a kind word to anyone."

He and Faust were stool by stool in the lower deck barroom. One of many of its kind strategically placed to relieve stress for crew members around the ship, this one tended to attract less visitors, being not as flashy as its other brethren. Despite that, there was still the standard bar stink of cigarettes and a few tables full of rowdy drunks.

Faust had barely touched his first drink. "I was surprised as you are, but there it was. Our project leader, the man who's given me the roughest time since leaving Earth, telling me that I'm the one he wants to entrust the project to."

Joy slid his drained mug out of the way, signaling the barkeep to bring out another. "Well, I certainly wouldn't want to see how he treats people he hates, then!"

Gerhardt stared blankly ahead. "I can't do it, Joy. It's too much responsibility."

"What? Being in charge? That's one of the easiest jobs there is, Faust! You tell others what to do, and if things go wrong, it's not your fault, it's theirs! I should know, the system's screwed me too many times over not to."

He considered this. "But this mission is too important. This is our survival we're talking about, not some research fund seeking investors. If we fail to keep up with the needs of this vegetation, we risk our own deaths, not to mention everyone else's."

The drunks in the far corner began yelling angrily back and forth, and the two men had to speak louder to hear one another over the ruckuss.

"You know what your problem is, Faust? You're too tense about everything. Ease up a little bit, and you'd be surprised how light your load gets."

"But I'm not right for it. I could never hold things together the way he does."

He could never measure up. Too many thoughts cluttered his mind to make him an effective person, much less leader.

"Don't worry about it. After all, you still haven't fully agreed to it. Hasmond could always find someone else. You need to take your mind off it, Faust. Me and a couple of the guys are planning to go deck sweeping later on. You're always welcome, if you wanna tag along."

Sweeping the deck. One of Joy's many phrases to describe picking up women for a one night stand. It was fruitless for him to ask Gerhardt along, because the man always passed the offer. Faust narrowed his eyes, slouching in his seat. "Thanks again, Joy, but no thanks."

"Don't you ever get lonely, man?" the other took a rare pause from drinking in mock concern. "You never get out and about. There are thousands of people on this ship. No need to lock yourself in your quarters like an anti socialist."

"I'm not like you, Joy. Running around dockside in the hopes of meeting someone by chance? A waste of time."

"Fair enough. Still, I've got something else for you to think about. You know that specimen Glen had given up on?"

Faust turned to look at him.

"The rivina humilis that was dying out?"

"You know I'm not good with nomenclature, but yeah, I think you know what I'm talking about. Well, we were ready to ship it off to waste management, so we had tossed it in the holding backroom."

"So?"

"Well, this is the real interesting bit," Joy lowered his voice to a whisper after looking around to make sure no one was listening in. Much of the bar was watching the fight that had broken out in the back corner between the yelling drunks. "When we came back for it, the damn thing should've been shriveled up like a dried potato skin. But when we did, the thing wasn't. Stranger still, it had ripened somehow."

Now it was Faust's turn to quiet his talk. "Without any care? Did you tell any of the others - or Hasmond?"

"Nope. You know how many extra hours the old guy would've had us run if he knew? 'Sides, I'd have thought it'd be more to your interest. Maybe just what you've been needing to get back onto the right train of thought?"

He looked at Joy, trying to decide if the other were genuinely trying to peak his interest, or just passing time until the rest of his deck sweeping group arrived. "Now that you're practically in charge, I guess he doesn't need to know anymore, huh, pal?"

A slight ripple ran through the table as Joy slammed down another drink on the counter, concentric circles pushing about the top of Faust's mug. He looked into it, seeing a tiny shadow of himself with. Distorted by the wave patterns, he watched as the features roughened, hardening as if they belonged to another person. Before he could really think on it, another vibration ran over the counter, the reflection flowing back as it had before.

Joy set down his mug after running his finger alongside the bottom to lick the last drops. Then, he heaved his chest in a loud belch, straightened himself, and got to his feet. Resting his hand momentarily on his roommate's shoulder, he grinned stupidly. "Wish me luck, buddy. I'm hoping tonight's the night I get a good bite on the end of my hook."

Faust didn't move. "The best fishermen go out expecting to catch nothing, Joy. That way, anything they manage to get looks good to them."

Joy turned back just before leaving, pulling out a cigar and letting his teeth bite down on it. "Maybe the best just haven't been using the right bait."

With that, he left the other to his own thoughts.

Gerhardt took a sip, his eyes wandering to the rack behind the bar, to an ornamental arrangement of flowers across from him. He recognized the bright blossoms from one of his units' older projects. Another reminder of the unfulfilled task he and his fellow botanists had not found a solution to. Here, in the shadowy lower deck amidst drunkards and darkness, the only light Faust could find seemed to radiate from these simple sunflowers, which were losing their life and color.

If Joy was a fisher, then what was he? Definitely not a leader, despite the convincing Hasmond had tried to impress upon him. But he was not a follower either.

Was he possibly like this sunflower, then? Cast out into a world where he stood out more than anything else?

Faust bit his lip, remembering the distorted image of himself that had flowed earlier into the reflection in his mug. No, that wasn't him, either. Perhaps he didn't fall into any category.

In one last gulp he forced the rest of the liquid down his throat and got to his feet. He'd had enough thinking for one night.