Samsara, by David John Drew
The tiny speck of light in the darkness grew visibly more radiant, then contracted and disappeared – consumed by the surrounding void. The earth’s sun surrendered its mortality to infinite space.
Bensons reflection in the cool, calm, placid water of the lake’s edge was disturbed by a single tear that had rolled down his cheek. Only the intermittent beep of a control signal on the space-craft Ventura IV disturbed the silence. Whatever fragmented thoughts and emotions he still possessed, were gathered… and he walked solemnly back to the shattered vessel, crawled into his bunk and slept off the trauma of the past 24 hours.
Though Arturius, was a habitable planet in the star system of Alpha Centauri, more than 4.37 light-years from earth – it could not mirror Bensons dreams, the embedded thoughts from childhood of human voices echoing in city streets – that fed his imagination, that for a brief time warded off the reality of aloneness. The alien shriek of an airborne reptilian startled him from slumber. A new day on a strange planet dawned, and with it the realization that he had slept with the 11 other motionless, un-breathing bodies of the other crew members. They had survived the ships malfunction, still preserved in their ossuaries containing artificial amniotic fluid… survived physically intact, but not spiritually. They were all dead. Through the thick, impenetrable clear shield he contemplated the face of his motionless partner, Christine… lost in the memory of her smile, until another shriek wrenched through his heart bringing him to his senses, to the thought of survival.
Benson surveyed the half-mile long scar that Ventura IV had created in the rich-red earth on its catastrophic descent – he was barely able to control it, maybe only by a miracle he became the sole survivor. Benson was neither a pilot nor an engineer, perhaps it was something as simple as a loose wire. In the hour long approach to Arturius he was the only one to awake from controlled coma – then plunged into chaos. Not knowing exactly what happened would remain in the depths of his mind for the rest of his life. For now, he could only go forward. Benson knew enough of Arturius to survive, enough data had been compiled from several previous space probes to equip him with adequate knowledge, but more was missing – and as a botanist and a scientist this gap gave him the necessary boost to begin a program of exploration. This was also a distraction from the reality of the loss he had suffered.
Benson quickly became more than a weed-watcher. As well as cataloguing and naming entirely new species, both plant and animal, he realized that he too was an alien – and a lonely one. Somehow he resisted the natural urge to bury his deceased comrades on the wrecked ship. It was a finality that he couldn’t face. Perhaps he had the capability to create life as well as document it? ‘Necessity breeds invention’ he thought to himself. Yet deep down in his heart, his motivation was simply to love – to have another with which he could speak, to share and to desire. Not be alone.
The hand-held laser sliced through the perspex covering of ossuary 2 containing the body of 11429 Evans, female: 26 years, 2ndLieutenant and co-pilot. Amazingly, even after weeks, her body still warm, nourished by the still-functioning life support system of the ship, yet she, herself was lifeless. Bensons thoughts and actions seemed wrong… even diabolical, but there were no laws or morals on this planet, except that he, Benson, make them up. He had little time to lose before the body would begin to decompose in the warm, moist heat of Arturius. All the salvaged medical equipment was in place, adapted for microscopic work – Bensons work of creation. The dark, impassive eyes of Sarah Evans seemed to communicate a negative in the painstaking labor of Benson. Beads of sweat on his forehead as he buried the body, laid her to her final rest so far from home. The extraction was a success, he couldn’t believe his luck or skill, it had worked. The once invisible ovum began to grow in a jar of nutrient-rich fluid. Benson watched it carefully month after painstaking month. This project consumed his mind and time. Somewhere around the ninth month he lifted the child from out of the fluid and instinctively kissed it – a girl, with a beating heart, just like his own… and then, the impossible but real sound of a voice, a cry… the whimper of a new life. The ships supply of dehydrated, fortified milk was enough to bring the child to the stage of weaning. He named her Esther. She became the light of his life, and he saw the future through her eyes. He taught her everything yet still learned much from Esther’s curiosity. Benson tried the same experiment again in the hope of nurturing a male, in a vision of preserving the human species. The boy died in the 13th year – and Benson prepared a grave next to where all the others lay. Benson and Esther wept, they knew they were all alone.
Benson took pleasure and comfort in Esther. He told her secrets and of the life he had led before on earth, that was now only an extinct memory. In her 19th year he realized that she was carrying a child of her own – and his. It wasn’t usual for them to be separated for long, but one day she disappeared for an entire day – apparently, Esther had wandered far into the overgrown forest that surround them. Benson worried beyond explanation and finally toward dusk she reappeared carrying a basket of fruit. Arturius provided everything they needed for survival, and over the years he had analyzed almost all the available naturally growing crops to identify whether they were edible or toxic. Complex work even for a scientist, Esther was still in so many ways like a child. She came carrying brightly colored fruit in a basket, ravenously munching on some of them as she walked toward him. Benson said nothing. He grabbed the basket and flung it into the lake. He had never seen such fruit… it could have been poisonous, lethal, life-destroying. Esther dropped to her knees and cried at her father’s violent reaction… she sobbed uncontrollably. Benson looked down dispassionately, then he walked off without saying anything. He went down to sleep on the bunk, perhaps half relieved but also angry. Dark night overcame them both.
He woke up with a gasp and an excruciating pain in his abdomen. In the dim light of the cabin he could make out the shadow of Esther standing over him, he mumbled… looked down and saw that she had a knife in her hand… the steel blade stained with blood. ‘No’ he murmured, and she thrust the blade into him, again and again… he managed to say ‘love you’ until he lost consciousness, finally stopped breathing… and died.
It was such a long time before Esther would hear that word ‘love’ again. She smiled as it was whispered in her ear by the son she bore 17 years before. Her fingers, colored red by the juice of the strange fruit – taking one, and putting it into his mouth. Adam loved the sweet warm taste. She had patiently waited for this moment, so many years, to have a man of her own. Of having traversed the wilderness of loneliness to an embrace of love.
And this is how our race came to be on Arturius.
End.
All Rights Reserved & Copyright David John Drew 2021
