Savage By Nature Read online

  “Pardon, sir, but what do you mean by your ‘off-hours’?” The man’s interruption snapped everyone’s attention to him, as if he had just rebuked the CEO of United Systems.

  This documenter sat at the other head of the table, indubitably a seat not easily filled by the soft-spoken or craven. This man was clearly neither of these things. Felina peered forward, cheek turned left, to stare down the table at him. Fortunately her intent gaze wasn’t the only one in the room narrowed on him.

  He couldn’t be a day older than thirty years, if that. He was incredibly handsome, but had an odd ovoid head and was close-shaven; large ears and nose, gorgeous blue eyes, jawline stubble. He squinted slightly when he spoke, a subliminal smirk on the verge of his plush lips.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, Captain,” he said. Felina noticed he hadn’t touched his food yet. She recalled his name as Geoffrey Calloway, had spoken to him briefly and erratically while aboard Columbus and Dingir.

  “Not at all, besides,” Keyes replied, “that’s what you all are here for—to ask questions.”

  “Right, well…I was just wondering, what you meant by your off-hours. When they are, where you tend to occupy the ship most, etcetera?”

  “Foremost, the Manticore is not a ‘ship’—it’s a USRD vessel, a container suspended in space carrying men, women, and…its research.”

  Keyes’ initial response was evidently sharp and a little harsher in tone than any of the documenters could have predicted. Not to mention his wording. Felina was already familiar with the terminology war among the most ardent USRD personnel, how ‘ship’ was often seen as derogatory and even belittling for their spacecraft. Shuttle crew, meanwhile, loved calling their craft ‘ships,’ as it tended to give them an exaggerated boost in pride.

  Felina assumed all the other documenters knew this already, at least most of them—even the youngest. This led her to believe that Calloway was going to be one of the ‘pushers’ in the next ten days—obstinate for answers, oppressively curious for details. In other words, like Felina—although she preferred the cunning approach.

  Lastly, during this brevity of silence between everyone present, Felina acknowledged the chief significance in Keyes’ response.

  That minuscule pause between the mentioning of men, women, and the research aboard. What was being researched in the confines of the vessel that it required such denotation?

  “As for myself,” Keyes’ voice reeled Felina back into the reality of present time. “I am most needed on the bridge, nearest the bow of the vessel. When not there, I am in my quarters—located below the bridge and starboard. Don’t worry, in each of your rooms will be a PDA for your private use and possession during the next ten days, and beyond—a permanent gift from USRD to complete your reports; on these will be an imported schematic of the Manticore’s layout.”

  “Most appreciated, sir, thank you,” Calloway said with a courteous nod, although Felina detected a dark sense of humor brewing in his eyes. Or perhaps, just a darkness bearing its own enigma.

  “Please, please, you may call me Captain or simply Keyes. While you’re aboard this vessel, you are our guests; only my crew report to me so formally.”

  “I understand, Captain, thank you.”

  “And your name?” Keyes raised an eyebrow. “I figure now may be the best time to make introductions.”

  “No pressure, huh?” Calloway smirked, his tan skin briefly blushing. He patted his collar and chest, as if straightening a tie or adjusting a suit, his gaze meandering as his voice realigned. “My name is Geoffrey Calloway, I’m twenty-eight years old. This is my second time beyond Earth, where I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, of the American States. I, uh…I guess I don’t know what else to say.”

  Calloway ended with an awkward chuckle.

  “An ample introduction, Mister Calloway, ample and appreciated,” the Captain said with a warm smile. Felina couldn’t discern its authenticity, but as the introductions passed down the line she didn’t quite have a chance to read further into it. Nor could she thoroughly study the reactions and expressions of the other four Manticore faces.

  A fleeting observation was that Fischer seemed most interested, Cassel second but only sporadically, and the other two preoccupied with wandering minds. Ikabu seemed simply bored, half-asleep, despite his acute jab at Felina earlier. Asher, on the other hand, appeared as if his mind inhabited another galaxy entirely.

  “Sarah Loudon,” said the pixie-cut, fair-headed woman sitting to the right of Calloway. She had a strong but kind face, calm cerulean eyes. “I am thirty-nine years old, born Malden, Massachusetts. My father was in the Air Force at the time, so I lived cross-country in the American States. Spent most of my childhood in Alaska. Took an interest in the stars early on; the Aurora Borealis sure helped.”

  Loudon finished with an inward-lipped smile, nodding to herself, gaze switching over to the next person.

  “Lorenzo Godunov, as far as I’m concerned, the stars are in my blood.” The man was big-boned, tall, and heavy-voiced. He had a graying goatee despite a borderline impeccable ponytail of blonde hair. His eyes were dark umber, his brow of anchors, and yet an intrigue filled his features as he spoke. “Growing up in Sakhalin, my peers called me Ursa after the Ursa Major constellation, and over the years I became more involved than they could’ve imagined. Anyway, I am forty-four years old but I assure you that among the stars and especially aboard your magnificent vessel I feel like I’m in my twenties.”

  “I can already tell, the USRD made wonderful selections,” Keyes said. He and Godunov exchanged nods, then he gestured for the next introduction.

  “Ah, my name’s Willard Schuman. Forty years old, give or take.” Felina recalled, already, this man having a sense of humor dryer than the surface of the moon. “Grew up in Annapolis, Maryland—American States—with a passion not so much for the stars, and I don’t mean the actors of Hollywood…heh…but, well, for the expansion.”

  “Expansion,” Keyes nodded once. “Of what, Mr. Schuman, might I ask?”

  “Humanity,” Cassel said abruptly, yet calmly. She smirked briefly, then waved an apology to Schuman. “Sorry for the interruption.”

  “No, actually, it’s quite alright…Cassel, is it? Ensign Cassel?” Schuman asked just as politely, to which she nodded once. Schuman, an oddly-enough clean-shaven middle-aged man with little signs of actual antiquity except for a strange dullness in his eyes, continued. “Cassel hit it on the nose, Captain. See, what intrigued me most when I was younger was the expansion of the human race. Our dreams jumped off the pages of textbooks and into outer space. I suppose that’s what truly reeled me into this profession.”

  The Captain nodded, Cassel smiled to herself and let her eyes drift over to exchange a brief look of intrigue with Fischer, then onto the next introduction.

  Felina might have misread Schuman afterall.

  “Rachel Baxter,” the woman on Felina’s left said, almost noticeably startling her. She had been drifting out just then, focusing too much on observing people rather than just listening to them. So Felina finally took a hiatus from that in order to open her ears and her mouth, as to eat simultaneously. The woman on her left was young with an adamant tone that reminded Felina of herself; there was no necessary analysis in Baxter, because Felina felt that she could relate with her on a small scale. “I am just a few months away from my thirtieth birthday. Born and raised in Dallas, Texas…could never stop staring at the stars, to be honest.”

  Baxter ended with a simple shrug, more or less cutting her prologue nearly as short as Calloway’s, a man whom seemed suddenly more interested in Baxter than previously.

  Felina rolled her eyes, mentally, and took another bite of what tasted surprisingly good before realizing it was her turn now. So she dabbed her mouth with a napkin, apologizing under her breath, then proceeded to give her own.

  “My name is Felina Sabartinelli, I am thirty-one years old. Um, to be honest though, I’d have to agree wi
th Godunov—being up here, beyond the Earthly heavens, it truly is exhilarating. I feel like a child at heart, staring at space and studying the constellations. Trying to scheme my way into hiding at the planetarium overnight after a field trip. Falling in love with the moon every evening, even when it was just a crescent. Anyway…this is where I belong, I feel, more than anywhere else. I was born in Perugia, Italy, of the European Countries. Most of my childhood was spent in Spain, however, primarily Valencia.”

  “But your accent is very light.”

  “Hardly even existent, my parents would say,” Felina replied to Fischer’s polite albeit premature remark. Felina smiled more so to herself and the recollection of her father’s voice than to anyone else present. “That’s probably because I spent the last fourteen years of my life in the American State of Colorado.”

  “A victim of wanderlust,” the Captain smiled cordially, nodding. His arms were crossed. “I, too, am subject to her grip.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to call ‘her’ a malevolent force, though, if I may, Captain.”

  “No, not at all, and well what I meant was…those itchy feet, that urge to travel, it can be dangerous sometimes.”

  “I believe that’s true about any human passion.” Felina found herself gazing down at her hands, zoning out. Not at her food, nor its tray or the table, nobody in her present company, just her hands. The failures and achievements of her life all thrown into ten digits and enigmatically etched palms.

  “I suppose you’re right, Miss Sabartinelli,” Captain Keyes finally said with a single nod, reeling Felina out of her daze. She smiled back, thanking him, then resumed her meal while doing her best not to stumble on any words, much less choke on them before they hit the ground running.

  As it were, fortunately, the woman on her right took the helm from her just as quickly. She seemed glad to, besides, unless it was simply a courteous transition so as to relieve Felina.

  This she appreciated, whether the woman anticipated it or not. Her name, Zoe Baez. It sunk into Felina’s skin like a tattoo as she spoke, with a somewhat deep voice that reminded Felina of her own and yet a little raspier with more bite than Felina liked to let on.

  “Twenty-eight years old, a little childish at heart—I think the most passionate of us stay that way—but happier than ever to be aboard the Manticore. It truly is a tremendous vessel, Captain.”

  Keyes thanked her kindly.

  “Born in Corocito of the Dominican Republic. Spent most of my time studying astrology in and out of school in Santo Domingo. Among other hobbies, but with the way mankind was set on a fiery path of technological advancements…just gave me the shivers. Still does, to realize we’ve come this far.”

  “And to see that you have come this far, Miss Baez. Truly an accomplishment. I wish you only the best in your future.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Baez gave him such a smile that Felina couldn’t help but wonder its sincerity. The young woman was lean with strong dark eyes, a striking beauty and smoothness, yet a rigid personality Felina believed to have detected without much thought. She had a bowl of curly light brown hair with an orange tint that seemed to perfectly match the complexion of her cheeks, lighter than the darkness of the rest of her body.

  “Arthit Ngo,” the man to Baez’s right said. He had a thin voice at first, but as he spoke the imperious vocals kicked in as if rallying a group. “Born in Chaiya, Thailand. Traveled across the country, studying theology and secondary languages when I was younger. Eventually got into journalism and astrology. Became a substitute teacher when I was thirty. I’m thirty-four now, been with the USRD for a little over three. Eager to see where this great vessel will take me, and our species.”

  The Captain was impressed and intrigued, not just with Ngo but the introductions thus far. A glimmer of something that Felina labeled as hope shone in his eyes. Whatever he was planning to unveil to these USRD documenters, Felina imagined it was going to be momentous.

  As anything should be, aboard the Manticore.

  “Hello all, my name is Kristof Wisniewski,” the man to Ngo’s right said. He had a very kind, even compassionate tone of voice, with bushy black eyebrows and a cleft chin. “I am thirty-six years old, and to be honest, I don’t know how I’m really supposed to follow all that…”

  Just about everyone shared a chuckle.

  “But, um, I am who I am—born in Alexandria, Virginia. I eventually moved to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania—the American States proved to be a diverse place of many opportunities. After many terrible times, I encountered quite the opposite, and ultimately made my way to the USRD. Since then I’ve just been following my dream. Rather enthused to be here.”

  He spoke almost as if sharing with a class of students at a grade school, but Felina appreciated his candor and courtesy.

  Just like that, in no time at all, she found herself reading people again. It was her second nature, she was a USRD documenter which of course meant someone who readily evaluated just about everything that might pique her curiosity.

  And in this case, amid the myriad of stars and seemingly just as many strangers, her observable universe felt endless.

  It was her right to life.

  “Nevermind you, Wisniewski, but I’m the one who’s last.” The woman between him and the Captain said, practically seated at the corner of the table. She had barely touched her food, and appeared to be more enrapt with all the introductions than satiating a growling stomach. Upon second look, Felina noticed this held true with just about everyone present.

  “No pressure…Miss Zometa,” Keyes said upon taking a quick glimpse of her ID tag.

  “Thank you,” she smiled kindly, then cleared her voice. Felina perceived her beauty beyond the appeal in her thick accent to the kindness in her dark eyes. “My name’s Genesis Zometa, born and raised in Metapán, El Salvador. When I was seventeen my father and I moved north, after my mother passed giving birth to my brother. He was in the Air Force, so our relocation to Burbank of California, in the American States, wasn’t unusual. And I guess what landed me here, or at least in this position with the USRD, isn’t so different from what Baez and the others have said.”

  She ended with a shrug and warm smile.

  “Well, I must say,” the Captain smiled, “it’s been a pleasure getting to know all of you. Basic acquaintances, I know, and this isn’t exactly Thanksgiving with strangers, but a research vessel and thus an incredibly crucial workplace. That said, I am not here to try and ‘win you over,’ per se, or influence your reports. I have very little doubt, if any at all, that by the tenth day you’ll not only be pleased with the Manticore and our progress, but you’ll not even want to leave.”

  Captain Keyes sounded so certain and proud.

  It made Felina’s skin crawl all the more—not necessarily with skepticism, but curiosity.

  “And I can tell how eager you all are to get into the thick of it, as they say, but like I mentioned earlier, first you may eat then get some much-needed rest.” Keyes then tapped his wristwatch, a stainless steel Bulgari analog, and emphatically raised his eyebrows. “Despite our presence in space, beyond the outer Kuiper belt of our Solar System, the personnel aboard Manticore follow a standard UTC telling of time. As of now it is precisely eight-twenty at night. The sleep schedule varies per sector, with our primary times being ten at night to six in the morning. We prohibit any of our personnel to allocate less than eight hours of sleep, and stasis is forbidden unless in an emergency.”

  “Captain Keyes to the bridge, please, Captain Keyes to the bridge. Thank you.”

  The intercom announcement was a woman’s voice, nearly as imperious as Keyes’ own.

  “Ah, that’d be the lovely Irene Birch, our vessel announcer.” Keyes stood, straightening out his uniform.

  “Pardon, Captain, I have but one question,” Calloway said with a raised hand, urgency in his eyes.

  “If you’d excuse me, Mr. Calloway, but I believe I’ve spoken enough for the evening. My top cre
w here will remain to answer your questions, as I imagine that anything you’re curious about will land in their areas of expertise. As for anything strictly for myself, I leave to be answered by Cassel unless she deems it too vital not to grace my ears first.”

  “Of course, Captain, I understand.”

  “Thank you, Calloway, and I hope the rest of you have a splendid night. After your meal here, no later than nine-thirty, you’ll be escorted to your rooms. And I’ll see you all during your tour of the bridge tomorrow.”

  Everyone bid the Captain a goodnight in return, their voices erratically unified.

  As Keyes left through one of the auto-doors, Calloway cleared his throat and looked up across the four faces seated down the left side of the table.

  “He had mentioned the prohibition of any personnel using stasis in lieu of standard sleep…unless in an emergency. What kind of emergency?”

  The documenters’ eyes transitioned from Calloway to the Manticore crew sitting before them. Initially Ensign Cassel was expected to answer, but Fischer was first to speak, without much hesitation at all. Meanwhile the documenters sporadically ate their food and listened attentively, like children eating breakfast while watching the morning cartoons.

  The only senses not acute to the Manticore crew were the documenters’ taste buds.

  “If a member of our crew sustains any injury that might interfere with his or her sleep,” Fischer answered, “then stasis is recommended. If the injury is major, stasis is a priority so long as I authorize it and the person remains in Medical. The Infirmary, that is.”

  “Oh, okay.” Calloway nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Welcome, Calloway.”

  “Any other questions nibbling at your curiosity?” Cassel asked, half-smiling. Her fingers were interlaced, hands on the table in front of her.