“You’re needed on the Bridge, Captain.”
Captain Robin Fox couldn’t help a small smile. “What is it this time, General?” he asked, trying to appear irritated, as a proper Captain should do when he’s called away from star gazing. He failed.
“We’re approaching Utopia, sir.” There was a pause over the radio. “We thought you should be the one to guide her in.”
Captain Robin Fox now let the smile spread, a familiar glow of excitement and relief flowing through his toes. He was coming home.
Tearing his gaze away from the star-studded window, he crossed the floor of his private quarters to the glass pane opposite. The sight of the planet Utopia still took his breath away every time.
The planet’s circumference loomed in the window’s view, a beautiful glowing halo of pastel blue atmosphere blocking out all of the pinpricks of light from the black void of space beyond. Rivers and oceans of the purest emerald beckoned. Crisp peacock blue mountain ranges rose up through the wispy silver clouds. Surrounding the planet was a set of stunning rings- their rainbow of ringshine bathing the equator of the planet in the richest of crimsons and the deepest of purples. It was so massive that only a fraction of the planet fit into the window Captain Robin Fox was gazing through; and that window was big enough as it was.
Utopia.
Utopia.
The word, in the Captain’s mind, was always said with a deep respect. Whenever he thought of Utopia, it was always said with a shaking sense of awe. In the Captain’s mind, if anyone did not feel a sense of insignificance when the word Utopia was issued from their lips, they were not human.
Before heading to the Bridge, Captain Fox checked his Log.
Date: 21 3 4010
Log of Captain Robin Fox, Captain of the NSV Cattalionia, Commander of the Mission Squadron of the Utopia Guardianship.
The mission to rescue the residents of the moon of Apirath and return them to their rightful home of the planet Utopia was successful- all residents are safely aboard the ship. Return should be easy, landing at approximately 20:30.
Nothing else to report, he thought, satisfied.
Captain Fox strode along the brightly lit silver corridor; his boots making firm contact with the gleaming floor, his Captain’s uniform’s buttons glinting. When he reached the Bridge, his smile became a full on grin, pride swelling in his chest as he surveyed his crew. His First Officer was stood to the right of his Captain’s chair; his Medical Officer, drafted specially in from the Medic Squadron early that season, caught his eye and grinned; his Pilot gazed at him with respect and a little excitement; the rest of the crew waiting expectantly with wide eyes, fanned against the back and side walls.
Striding confidently forward, Captain Robin Fox smiled as he moved to sit in his Captain’s chair-
Eyes flickered open.
Robin Fox lay staring at the peeling ceiling for a few long moments.
He could hear his heartbeat if he listened carefully, and he sighed heavily through his nose as he realised that it was happening again.
I must stop dreaming.
Rubbing his eyes and groaning, he sat up on his elbows.
Robin Fox was not a Commander, and he was not a Captain. He did not belong to the Utopia Guardianship.
But I do belong-
Shut up.
I do not belong to the Utopia Guardianship. I am not a Captain, and I am not a Commander. I am a boy.
Utopia does not exist.
He had to see it again.
Tossing the covers off in a moment of mad desperation and yearning, Robin scrambled out of bed, nearly tripped on the dog-eared edges of the floorboards and dashed, as quietly as he could, down the corridor. On reaching the back porch, he burst open the doors and held his breath.
It was early morning on Apirath, with the muddy green slopes of rock and ferns receiving the usual morning drizzle, the rain not even breaking the surface tension on the opaque sludgy surface of the small lake, nestled in amongst the hills. The sky above him was a mid-range grey, dull and lifeless.
Oh but it did exist. And it was beautiful.
As he gazed up into the sky, Robin Fox suddenly felt like he could breathe again; like he’d been trapped under a smothering blanket and it had just been blissfully torn away.
There she is.
The planet Utopia hung in the sky like an angel from heaven, with those same peacock blue valleys and emerald oceans, threads of silver clouds. And those rings. Blindingly beautiful crimsons and purples.
It felt so close Robin Fox could almost touch it.
It was high in the sky this morning, and although it was small enough that Robin could cover it with his thumb if he held his hand up, he still felt an electrifying thrill every time he caught sight of it.
For a few moments he simply stared at Utopia, all that distance away.
All that distance away.
Then his skin began to burn.
Cringing at his own stupidity once again, he spun around and scrambled back onto the porch. The rain on Apirath always burned.
You shouldn’t have looked. You know what Mother would say.
Robin cringed again, this time not from the rain that burned his skin. Mother.
He closed the double doors behind him, wincing at the crack that echoed from the doorframes. He caught one last look at the orb in the sky that haunted his dreams and then turned away.
“Robin.”
Damnit.
His mother was stood in the doorway, resting on the frame. Her frail but proud face stood illuminated against the dark backdrop of the corridor beyond. Her eyes burned like fire.
“What were you doing?”
She was old; but her words still cut through Robin like ice cold knives.
Lie. Say you were just checking the weather. Just checking if anyone was around.
Bullshit. No one ever comes here.
“Um.” He paused. “Just getting some fresh air.”
He could see her eyes slowly travel from his to somewhere past the window. He knew what she was looking at. She knew he knew.
“Robin, you must stop dreaming.” she sighed, but her voice was still strong. And with that she turned away and hobbled down the corridor and into the kitchen.
Robin Fox was lost.
“Robin, would you pass the salt?”
Robin looked up from his plate and nodded, pushing the salt grinder across the table. There was a pause.
“Thank you, Robin.”
There was another pause, longer this time.
Robin and his mother were sat in their kitchen. It was late afternoon, and they were having lunch.
Suddenly there was an ominous crack, and the table they were eating on split in two across the middle.
Both Robin and his mother had managed to keep hold of their plates, preventing them from sliding down toward the fold in the wood.
“There goes another one,” his mother sighed.
“I’ll fetch another one later,” Robin suggested hopefully.
His mother looked at him sternly. “No, we can go on market day, as always, my dear.”
Robin’s heart fell.
They picked up their plates, balanced them on the ends of the two halves of the table and continued eating in silence.
“Robin,” his mother began, almost hesitantly, pausing to chew slowly on a piece of food.
“Yes, Mother?” he muttered, staring down at his plate, knowing what was coming.
“Have you been dreaming again?”
“No,” was his reply, not looking up.
His mother balanced her fork on her plate precariously and then gazed straight into Robin’s eyes; he had to look up.
“Robin, you cannot spend your life wishing you are somewhere you cannot be,” she began gravely. “The Utopia Guardianship does not exist as you think it does.”
Robin thought about saying something but he had been through this before; better just to wait until it was over.
“You don’t need to go anywhere; you have everything right here,” his mother continued to rasp. Her fork was beginning to tip on her plate. She caught it just in time. “And anyway,” she added, “You wouldn’t leave me here, would you?”
She said it with an almost triumphant edge to her voice, and the fire was now dying slightly in her eyes.
Robin shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m sorry.”
“Now, would you tidy this up and fetch the small table from the front porch? Then we can see what’s on the radio.”
Robin looked at his mother for a long moment and then stood. His own fork which had been balancing on his plate slid from his grasp with a clash.
“Sorry,” he whispered, but his mother did not seem to notice. Picking up the fork, he put it on the side and left the room.
