The Meeting

We buried Vancil just on the other side of the hill, where the workers wouldn't see a grave marker every time they went about their duties. A Unitologist priest said a few very kind words and then allowed us to lower the casket. Not many turned out for the funeral, though I'm not so sure very many heard of it. The excitement over the Marker along with the arrival of the Ishimura in low orbit was a decent enough distraction.

I'm not very excited anymore; not about the Ishimura, the imminent cracking, or going home. Since I was Vancil's closest friend, the job of explaining to his family the nature of his death informally fell to me. It's not something I'm looking forward to. How do you even start with a matter like this? Open a vidlink with his wife, crack a joke, and just dive right into the heart of it?

I wish someone would tell me how.

Estrella attended the funeral, though I think it was only for my sake. She was never very fond of Vancil, though he was never very open to making friends. I had to work two planetcracks before we even started getting chatty, and then one more before we had a drink together. Vancil was a good, honest man who only wanted to do right by his family. Having fun made him feel guilty when he remembered his wife and kid were back on Mars paying for their oxygen.

He didn't deserve this. Why couldn't he see that?

—

It was odd that the usual ceremonies were skipped when the Ishimura's team landed today. There's always great fanfare, for as long as I can remember. The crew walks out, the colony empties and crowds around to meet them. The foremen shake hands with the crew and the whole to-do is shot into space via vidlink.

I saw the shuttle land, though there was nothing on the schedule. There was no cheering, no vidlink, and no hands were shaken. The shuttle landed near the hangar where the Marker was being kept, and I heard people complaining (loudly) that they'd been kicked out of the hangar in the middle of worship. All to make way for the crew.

I know there's excitement over this thing, but I didn't think they'd forgo the whole tradition because of a silly statue. The meeting is tradition, that's the way it's always been; ever since I joined up.

It's tradition. They shouldn't have fucked with it!

—

I've been going over how we found Vancil the other day, over and over in my mind. It's been giving me a headache. The guards had shown up earlier than usual and we made small talk while one of them tried to get Vancil's door open with their key. The lock stayed red.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't know. This, ah... This should've opened it."

"Is it the wrong key?"

He sighed. "It's the right key," he replied, leaving zero room for argument. "Something's wrong with the lock."

"Should I call one of the technicians over?"

"Nah, it's okay. We just have to free up the door." He motioned to his partner, and the two of them each inserted some kind of metal tool into the padlock. There was a click and the door shuddered. The light went green. "Who needs a technician?" he scoffed.

I had held up my arms. "Okay, sorry. I'm just worried about my friend."

He started to force the door open, causing gears to whine. "Are you sure he's not out swimming in that crowd around the Marker?"

"Didn't think he would be," I said. "He's not very religious."

"Maybe he couldn't help it. Seeing that thing in the hangar, maybe he got with it in a hurry."

I shrugged. "He's not really the type—"

"Fuck!" The guard slipped onto his back and pushed himself to the other side of the hallway.

"What's wrong?"

He ignored me and shouted into his comlink, "Get a fucking medic down here! Subsection thirty-three! Now!"

I couldn't see what they were seeing. The second guard looked inside the room, turned, fell to his knees and retched. "Oh my god!" he said between gasps.

Knowing what I know now, I don't think I would have ever looked. But I did, and the first thing I saw was the blood, pooling at the doorway. Thinking Vancil was hurt, I rushed in blind, nearly slipping in the blood. It took a moment or two before I was able to properly absorb the scene.

His body was slumped over in the middle of the room, a shard of glass sticking out of his throat. Moving outward, swirling in a clockwise direction, were symbols that I couldn't begin to make out, all of them written in blood. That steady spiral of symbols took up the entire floor and some of the walls. It all ended at the body, but it began at his bed, where a photo of his family was tipped over and broken.

In a daze, I looked at the photo. Bloody fingerprints lined the edges and smeared out the faces of his wife and son. My head had started to ache when I flipped the picture over. On the back, he had written one word:

Someday.

I don't remember much after that. The medics came and someone helped me back to my room. I've had nightmares ever since. And, you know, that's the funny thing! I've had that damned picture in my pocket ever since we found Vancil, and I keep turning it over to read that word on the back.

Even now, all that pops into my head is Someday. But I can't... I can't really read it. It's written in those same, strange symbols that Vancil had marked up his room with. The symbols make sense, but I don't even know what they are!

Why the fuck can I read this!