Tales from the Brahma • Episode 7: “Sins of the Father” • by Patricia Miller ~ Stupefying Stories Magazine

Welcome aboard the Brahma!

Now a century out from Earth and en route to HD 133600, a remarkably Sun-like star and planetary system in the constellation of Virgo, the Brahma is the last, desperate, crowning achievement of human civilization and engineering. A massive three-hundred-kilometer long modular mega-ship, a gigantic ark in space consisting of two hundred and sixteen separate habitat pods, each the size of a small city, at launch Brahma carried two million passengers and crew, along with everything their descendants would need to build new lives on the worlds of HD 133600.

For the Brahma is a generation ship: all the original passengers and crew who left the Earth a century ago are long since dead. Everyone now on board was born on the ship; most will probably die on it. If their mission succeeds, their children or grandchildren will live to see the light of HD 133600.

Right now, the Brahma seems to be on-course and everything appears to be working as designed. The ship is cruising serenely at just slightly below c, a tribute to the engineers and craftspeople who designed and built her a century before. Many on board pray daily that the ship contains the best of humanity, and not the sorts of politicians, criminals, cultists, crazies, and dishonest leadership their ancestors thought they’d left behind…

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Episode 7: “Sins of the Father” • by Patricia Miller

Teo Pinder stilled his face as he watched Director Melnik march through the vast cubicle farm to her office. Her progress was unimpeded as always—one didn’t just start a conversation with the Director. If she wanted something she spoke to people, they didn’t speak to her. She had never spoken to Teo.

Teo didn’t have much to say to her, anyway. She was the prickliest human he’d ever encountered, and that included his future father-in-law, Cesil, who’d hated him on sight. Not everyone could be an engineer, he told himself. Not everyone could be a scientist. Admin was important. Prioritizing resources, work shifts, family allotments—all of that was just as important to the success of Brahma, in spite of anything Cesil Latten had to say.

He gazed at his screen, ready to finalize transfers. One of the industrial pods was experiencing some unexpected losses in personnel and he had to make up the shortfall somewhere. No one wanted to live in Smoketown, but if he had to send some kids out for re-training, well they were young enough to start over again, and they were well-taken care of in the orphanages which had been established for their care.

He’d never actually been to Smoketown to check out those orphanages. Never been anywhere but Admin Central, just like his parents and their parents before them. As long as he kept his head down, his eyes on his own work, he’d be fine.

Most of the time, Teo believed that. Occasionally, like right now, he had doubts. There was a voice inside him that would raise its voice and shout in his brain; questioning, prying, nagging. It had been pretty loud lately.

That boy has the makings of a great teacher. Are you sure the recycling plant is a good choice?

You keep sending kids over there but Admin hasn’t allocated more fresh fruit. Don’t they deserve to be healthy?

She wants to go into medicine, not heavy machinery. It isn’t her fault her parents are dead.

“Hey, Teo, are we going to lunch or not?” It took him a second to shake off the voice in his head for the one at his shoulder.

“Sorry, Sylvie. Deep in the screens today.”

Sylvie Latten sympathized. She always did. That’s why he’d asked her to marry him. They’d known each other since grade school, following the same track into Admin. “Yeah. Grades came out this morning. I’m going to be breaking hearts this afternoon. Thank God for the algorithms. I can blame them for the chaos. And speaking of chaos, how about we skip the madness of Hazel’s lunchtime crowd and hit the queues instead? We can get it to go and enjoy some private time in the park.”

“Sounds good, babe.”

Sylvie led the way to a small park tucked behind the admin spaces. It wasn’t empty; not be a long shot. No place on the Brahma was ever empty, but the park was at least a place where someone could have a quiet conversation without worrying everyone and their neighbor would be gossiping about it over dinner.

The food was decent, considering, and Teo was more hungry than he realized. He finished his meal long before Sylvie, so he looked around the park, marveling at the technology that could keep trees thriving in such an environment.

They don’t have trees in Smoketown.

“They don’t have trees in Smoketown.”

“What?” It must have been a great bowl of stew. Sylvie had barely looked up from it since she started eating.

“Sorry. Just thinking out loud.”

Ask her. She could help.

“Listen, Sylvie. About the algorithms. How inclusive are they?”

“What do you mean? Everyone graduating is included.”

“But what if they’re not graduating? I mean what about those kids who weren’t able to finish school?”

“Then the ones who flunk out get re-assigned to something that doesn’t need more education. That’s the policy, Teo. You should know. You’re the one who handles those assignments.”

“But what if it wasn’t their fault? What if it wasn’t because of grades, but because of, I don’t know, an accident or illness or something.”

“Dad always says we shouldn’t make excuses for laziness or malingering.” Sylvie went back to her stew, scraping the sides of the bowl with serious intent.

“She isn’t lazy!”

“She who?” He thought Sylvie was more interested in the last drops of stew than his answer.

Teo tried to explain. “There’s a young woman, just assigned to the pool. She had outstanding grades all the way through, but her parents were injured in that lab explosion last year and she had to leave school to take care of them.”

“So when they get better, she can go back to school and re-enter the algorithm.”

“Not an option, unfortunately. They died. She’s been designated a ward of the ship.” Which meant a machine shop instead of anatomy class unless he could convince Sylvie to give her a chance.

“Why didn’t other family take her in before that happened?”

“She doesn’t have other family. She’s from Arcadia. Her parents were onlies.” Arcadia frowned on the population replacement tradition followed by other pods. They’d been pursuing a randomized single child policy to reduce their need for outside resources almost since the Brahma left Earth orbit.

“Arcadia? She wouldn’t have made it into med school anyway. You know we only take the best, and those are people from pods like Green Grove and Grandon.”

They’re building an aristocracy, Teo.

“That seems shortsighted, not to mention elitist.”

“I’m from Grandon! It isn’t elitist, it’s fact. All the best doctors and engineers come from there.”

“Only because they have better schools and better resources. Not everyone on the ship gets the same chance.”

“Are you saying every place should be the same? Do you want to keep our children from a wonderful future?”

“Sylvie that isn’t it at all! I just meant everyone deserves a shot at that kind of future!”

“Not at the expense of my children!” Sylvie stomped off, leaving her empty container behind.

Teo returned to his desk to see a light flashing on his communication panel. He’d never seen that particular light before, but knew what it meant. So did everyone else. He took a deep breath, another, a third, then made his way to Director Melnik’s office.

She didn’t acknowledge him right away. In fact, it was more than ten minutes before she turned her attention to him standing framed by the door.

And in all that time, that inner voice never shut up.

She won’t help.

She’s one of them, the ones ruining the ship.

She can’t be trusted.

“You have opinions about policies well outside your area of expertise, Pinder.” Her voice was powerful, frightening.

What should he say?

I do indeed have opinions.

I want to know what your end game is.

Lie if you have to.

“I was just wondering about things, ma’am. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Latten doesn’t think so, and I’m inclined to agree with her.”

“She never mentioned it to me.” He would have remembered that conversation.

The Director gave him the full weight of her stare. “She expressed concern to one of her co-workers about your opinions impacting her career. You haven’t been as discreet as one would expect.”

“Everyone has opinions, Director. I don’t act on mine. Nothing I do or don’t do should affect her or our children’s future.”

“The sins of the father, Pinder. Your family has been in Admin for a long time. That can change.”

“But—but we earned our place here.”

“You were born into your place here.”

“We were supposed to leave all that elitism behind. We’re supposed to be creating a better future on the new world than we had on Earth.”

She laughed—laughed—at him. “Just when I thought I knew what ‘stupid’ was. That is truly the most ignorant thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.” She walked around her desk and stood well inside his comfort zone. “Next you’ll be telling me life isn’t fair.”

“It isn’t, not if a promising young woman is going to live her life performing back-breaking labor in some filthy machine shop.”

“So who takes her place then? Who does the back-breaking labor? Handles the recyclers, the sewage, the heavy lifting?”

“I— I—”

“Thought so. The poor will always be with us, Pinder. So will those of us who live quite nicely because of them.” She walked to her desk, pushed a button. Two security guards quickly materialized behind him and took hold of his shoulders.

“Pinder here has been transferred to Smoketown. See to it his access to anything else has been revoked.”

Sylvie refused to look at him as they dragged him away.

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Patricia Miller is a US Navy veteran who writes SF, fantasy, horror and romance. She is a member of SFWA and CODEX.

Publications include short fiction in A Quaint and Curious Volume of Gothic Tales, 206 Words, Amazing Offer!, and the Cinnabar Moth Literary Collection e-zine. Upcoming publications include short stories for Brigid’s Gate Press, Cinnabar Moth Press, Zooscape Magazine, Wyngraf, and Touchstone Press.