Fields of Light

Chapter One

"Strap ye'selves in lads, it's a rough ride at first."

James gives the harness over his shoulders an extra tug, checking the clasp yet again. He leans his head back against his seat, taking a look around. The flight seats are lined up in two columns of four, with James in the last row. He shoots a glance to the seat to his right. Its occupant, a younger man with shaggy black hair and a wrinkled collared shirt, has said barely a word since he and James came aboard half an hour ago.

From what James can tell he and the silent man are the only two newbies. The other six crewmen are already strapped in and are hidden behind their tall flight seats, except for the man speaking now. A tall man with a close-cut golden beard, he walks down the aisle between the seats like an attendant at an amusement park ride. He gives James's harness a jerk, then does the same for his neighbor. "Alright," he says, turning and striding back to his place at the front. "For those of ye who never done this before, it's gonna feel like we yanked the floor out from under ye. Just keep calm, once we get ourselves outside o' the Citadel's gravity well we'll cut in our own artificial G. Until then, please do ne throw up if ye can help it." The man swings into his flight chair and pulls the harness down over his shoulders, slapping the buckle into place. "Green, Sawyer!" he calls. "Let's get the hell outa here!"

James presses his head further back into his seat, letting out a shaky breath and tightening his grip around the harness. Come on, he thinks. Not all ships crash terribly. Just all the ones you've been on recently...

The ship hums to life around him. The floor begins to shake, sending vibrations up the chair and into James's bones. He grits his teeth, forcing himself to take deep breaths through his nose. A sidelong glance reveals that his silent companion remains as placid as ever. Is he asleep?

There's a roar that James feels reverberating through his entire body, and then he's thrown back into his seat as the ship surges forward. James is suddenly lying on his back looking up at the seat in front of him, terrible force crushing him down into the back of his flight chair. The harness rattles against his chest, accompanying the chattering of his teeth as the ship shakes violently from side to side. He struggles to pull in breath, his chest feeling as if several men are standing on it, the shaking continuing until he's sure his brain will be jarred out of his skull.

And then suddenly it's over, and James floats gently forward, bumping against his harness. He blinks, his ears ringing as his blood begins to flow normally again. The roaring of the ship has been reduced to a gentle hum. "Just a minute now," calls the bearded man from the front row. "We're nearly out of citadel space, the captain'll switch on the gravity soon."

From the front of the ship James hears muttering, and then a soft electronic whine. "Piece of shit!" someone yells, and there's a clunk that sounds like someone's boot connecting with a recalcitrant technical component.

There's a moment of pause, and then James drops out of the air and onto the seat of his chair, his arms suddenly losing their gentle weightlessness. He blinks, loosening his white-knuckled grip on the harness.

The bearded man slips out of his chair, rising and resting his hands on the seats to either side of him. "Good morning, gentlemen. I would say ladies and gentlemen, but there's only one lady here and I believe we're already acquainted." He eyes James and the apparently comatose man to his right. "As for you two, I don't think we've been properly introduced."

A man throws off his harness three seats in front of James, getting to his feet and turning away from the group. "I'll pass on the happy family speech, McCormick. Once was enough, believe me. I'll be in my cabin." He slouches off to a door at the front of the room, buzzing it open and disappearing around the corner.

The bearded McCormick watches him go, then turns back to the new arrivals, offering them a rueful smile. "Well, that's Mr. Geoffrey Rogers, first mate t'Captain Sawyer. As ye can see, he don't care much for my company. I'm Keith McCormick, and this around you is the crew of the Ariadne, the galaxy's finest mining vessel. Getcher selves outa yer seatbelts and I'll show ye around."

James carefully undoes his harness and stands up slowly, testing his legs. To his pleasant surprise everything still seems to work, so he follows McCormick down the aisle to the door at the far end of the room. His eyes skim over the rest of the crew as he passes: Three more humans, one woman and two men, as well as a quarian male.

The door hisses shut behind them and McCormick leads the way down a corridor that curves back around the outside of the previous room. "The other fellow back there is Neil Briggs. He's the science officer here on the Ariadne. The old codger is Andre. He may have another name, but none of us know it. He's been a miner since the expansion, so after we get ye started if ye have any questions ask him." McCormick comes to the end of the curved hall, stopping at a vertical shaft. He gestures to a pair of yellow rails protruding from its end. "General crew deck's down here a ways, watch yer tread."

James follows McCormick down the ladder as the man continues his exposition. "The lass back there goes by Ms. Tyler, an' ye'd best forget about tryin' te find out her first name. She's quiet enough, but I get the feelin' she can held her own in a fight. Pretty, but cold. Steer clear is my advice."

McCormick waits for the two to step off of the ladder, then he turns and steps through a short tunnel into what James assumes is the mess. As they pass through the tunnel he notices a section of ladder running across the ceiling. How often do they have to kick something to keep the gravity working?

The step out into the mess. Two rectangular tables fill the center of the room. A counter with a row of cabinets and a set of strapped-down cooking utensils lines one wall. McCormick makes for the other side of the room, where another hall leads off to the left and right. "I guess that's everyone," he says. "Oh, and then there's the quarian boy, Zael. Lad's on his pilgrimage, we picked him up a few weeks ago. He's a good boy, but the rest o' the crew, well..." He shrugs, then waves an arm down the hall to the left. "Bunks are down both sides o' this hallway here. Engineering's down there," he says, giving the ladder at his feet a kick. "don't worry much about that, there's not much down there. That's about it really, save fer the observation rooms back up top and the cockpit. You know everyone else now too, at least by name, so I have te ask ye yer names now."

James shoots a glance at the man beside him. Hidden behind his hair, the man makes no move to do first, so James clears his throat. "James Mikaelson. Good to meet you, Mr. McCormick." He accepts the man's proffered hand, not surprised to be met by a firm, energetic grip.

"Bonny," says McCormick enthusiastically, turning to the silent man. "And who'll ye be, then?"

"Derek," the man mutters, not bothering to move the hair out of his face. "Anderson." He takes McCormick's hand, shaking it noncommittally.

"Fine, fine," says McCormick, extricating his hand from the limp grip with an expression of mild distaste. "Well, there're only three rooms fer the eight of us, so ye'll be wanting t'know who yer rooming with."

"I thought there were nine crewmen," remarks James.

"Aye," consents McCormick, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Well, it is ne regulation, but we all sort of figured it'd be better t'let Rogers have his privacy. It's not that no one wants t'share a room with him..."

As if on cue, the last cabin door slides open and the first mate sticks his head into the hallway. "What're you assholes doing out here?" he demands. James notes dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. "Are you trying to wake the dead, or what?"

"Well, we woke ye up, so it's a start," says McCormick under his breath.

Rogers squints at the taller man. "What? You say something, ya damned loon?"

"No sir," replies McCormick, raising his voice. "Just showin' the recruits around the ship."

Rogers turns his watery gaze on James and Derek. "Eugh," he pronounces, making a face. "What rock did you find them under?"

McCormick turns, making shepherding motions toward the ladder to the upper decks. "We'll be leavin' ye now, sir," he calls over his shoulder. "Sorry te have disturbed ye."

The three men beat a hasty retreat, climbing back up the ladder as Rogers's door shuts again behind them. "Love that guy," mutters Derek when they're back on the flight deck.

"Space travel does ne agree with him," says McCormick. "That's the official story, an' ye'll keep by it. Stay outa his way an' you'll be just fine. He keeps t'his quarters most o' the time anyhow." His expression changes, a smile stretching across his wide face. "Come on, I'll show ye the observation deck. It's the best part."

James and Derek follow him down the curving hallway, through the section of hall that connects the flight room and the cockpit, and around the other side. At this end there's a ladder leading up, instead of down. McCormick extends an arm. "After ye, gentlemen."

James climbs up into a darkened room. Lights on hibernating computer consoles blink at him, and in the dim light he can make out rows of benches and monitors on the sides of the room, with a semi-circular console in the center of the floor. McCormick sticks his head up from the ladder, a grin on his face. "Ready?" Without waiting for a response, he punches a switch on the side of the wall.

There's a low whine, and then James's mouth drops open as the entire ceiling slides away, revealing a sea of stars overhead. He's aware of McCormick as the man comes up behind him, standing beside him as the lights of the heavens sparkle above them. "It just never gets old," he breaths, and James silently agrees. As he stares out at the thousands of lights dancing on the inky blackness he thinks of Kal. He feels a pang of sorrow, realizing that in the whole of the void before him he does not know where his quarian is. How can we ever be together again when we are unimaginably far apart? What threads hold us together? What ball of string will guide me back to you, Kal'reegar?