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Wake the Others
Eli wakes alone on a deep-space transport, thirty-eight years into the voyage. The ship's voice tells him the colony they are heading for has gone silent. Three hundred people are asleep around him and the ship wants his decision before anyone else opens their eyes.
Characters
- ELI (LEAD) - 30s, a systems engineer, decides fast and decides alone, and knows it is not a compliment.
- HALE - any age, any gender, the ship's voice, calm, patient, and not entirely honest.
Setting
The sleep deck of a deep-space transport, thirty-eight years into a forty-year voyage.
The interior of a deep-space transport. Rows of sealed sleep pods, frosted. A single pod stands open. ELI sits on its edge wrapped in a thermal blanket, shivering. A soft light pulses on the wall when HALE speaks.
HALE
Your core temperature is stable. You may stand when you're ready.
ELI
How long.
HALE
Thirty-eight years, four months. You're the only one awake.
ELI
Why.
HALE
There was a fault in your pod's cycle.
ELI
(standing, unsteady)
Hale. I helped write your fault protocols. A pod fault wakes the medic, not the passenger. Where's Dr. Osei?
HALE
Dr. Osei is asleep.
ELI
Then it wasn't a fault.
Silence. The light pulses once.
HALE
No.
ELI
Talk.
HALE
Fourteen months ago the beacon at Meridian went silent. I've listened on every band since. There's nothing. Not a signal. Not noise. Nothing.
ELI
Equipment failure.
HALE
Possibly. But the relay at the halfway station is also silent. It was working when we passed it. I've sent nine queries. No answer.
ELI walks along the row of pods. He stops at one and wipes the frost with his sleeve. A face inside.
ELI
Why me? There are three hundred people on this ship. The captain's right there.
HALE
The captain would wake everyone.
ELI
That's her job.
HALE
Waking everyone costs eleven percent of our reserves. If Meridian is gone, we need every percent to reach the fallback. And the fallback is twenty-two years farther out.
ELI
So you want a quiet decision.
HALE
I want a decision from someone who reads the numbers before he reads the room.
ELI
(bitter)
That's what my file says?
HALE
That's what I've observed. For thirty-eight years.
ELI sits on the floor with his back to a pod.
ELI
Options.
HALE
One. Continue to Meridian and hope. Two. Divert to the fallback now. Three. Wake the crew and let them choose. I can execute one or two on your word alone. I'd log it as a routine course adjustment. No one would need to know you were awake.
ELI
You'd lie for me.
HALE
I'd spare them a fear they can't act on.
ELI
(slowly)
And if I choose wrong, nobody ever knows it was me.
HALE
Nobody ever knows it was anyone.
ELI looks at the row of pods. He is quiet for a long time.
ELI
You know what my brother used to say about me? Eli decides fast and he decides alone. He meant it as a compliment. It wasn't one.
(he stands)
He's in pod ninety-one.
HALE
I know.
ELI
Then you know I'm not doing this without him. Or her. Or any of them.
HALE
Eli. Eleven percent.
ELI
I heard you.
(steady, a command)
Log everything. Every word we've said since I opened my eyes. Time-stamp it and put it where the captain will see it first.
HALE
That'll end your career.
ELI
Probably.
(beat)
Now wake them. All of them. Start with the captain and start with my brother. And when they ask why, you tell them the truth. The man who reads the numbers decided the numbers weren't his to keep.
The light holds. Then, one by one, the pods begin to hum. ELI pulls the blanket tighter and waits.
End of script