ESCAPISM
By
Paula Sanders
Timeline: After "Brave New Pacifica" (Week 11-14)
Author's E-Mail: paula.sanders@shawnee.org
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Here's a little, cheerful piece about Morgan and Bess Martin. Something to tide you over until I can get my post _All About Eve_ (get Devon out of cold storage) story finished and posted ENJOY!
Escapism
by Paula Sanders
copyright 1995Morgan Martin
**96 days on this planet, and we're no closer to New Pacifica than we were 35 days ago when we got stuck here in this winter camp. Living in close quarters with each other, has caused tempers to flare and cabin fever makes us all a little crazy. Eventually, and soon, I hope, we'll find a pass out of these mountains and this winter will end. And, finally, we'll be able to leave this place and head for civilization. But until, then we all try to find our own ways of coping.**Everyone had their own ways of dealing with the cold in this ghastly winter camp, Morgan Martin's was just a bit more impractical than the others. Virtual Reality was his passion. Bess spent a lot of time scolding him for spending too much time lost in an imaginary world. He wished she wouldn't; it made him feel like a child. Sure he could be selfish and demanding, but he was a grown man, not a child. He was just an adult with a hobby.
"Who're you looking for Morgan?" Walman asked, when he saw Martin standing in the middle of camp, scanning around, his gear clutched in his left hand. Morgan and his VR gear were almost inseparable.
"Have you seen Bess?" Morgan asked, not looking at the other man. Walman smiled. Why did he think he needed to ask? Who else would Morgan be looking for?
"I think she's in the Biodome," Walman answered. Martin nodded and hurried off to the dome.
Bess Martin sat at a table with Devon and Eben. Today was the day she agreed to help them with the inventory of supplies. Every ten days they took stock of what they had left. It was tedious work but it had to be done. It was also disheartening to find that their food supply was whittling down, rapidly, no matter how steadfastly they rationed. Everyone was concerned that it would not hold out. Danziger was positively fatalistic about the whole thing, but then he was fatalistic about everything these days.
"I have fifty-six boxes of spirolina," Bess announced. "That means 14 individual packets per person, per day," Devon said, doing the math in her head, quickly.
"Even if we ration half a packet a day, it still would only last four weeks," Eben said. "We can't afford to ration that strictly."
"I know," Devon agreed. "How much alfaglutonate do we have?"
"Less than the spirolina," Eben told her. "Thirty-two boxes."
Bess felt herself being infected with Danziger's fatalism. She always liked to take the positive approach to everything, but when things threatened the lives and health of the group she found it hard to put a bright spin on things.
"As much as I hate to admit it. Danziger's right," Eben said. "If we don't find another food source we won't survive the winter."
"We'll find a way," Devon assured them, without her usual conviction. This planet was taking its tool on their leader. Bess remembered, months ago, how certain Devon was, how absolutely sure she had been that everything would work out the way she planned. But it never did. Devon's optimism was being crushed under the weight of the reality of this planet.
"We should start on the medical supplies," Bess said, steering the conversation away from food. She hated the helpless feeling it was creating in her.
The door clattered open and Morgan rushed through it. Bess smiled at her husband. He was looking a little disheveled but that wasn't unusual, they all were a little disheveled. She liked his tousled look. It made her feel more comfortable with him. They were now on equal footing. On the stations he always tried to look perfect, crisp, and polished. Not that it made her love him any less. It was just that, sometimes it made her nervous; like she wasn't good enough for him, with her Earth Res mentality and her fly-away hair, which she could never make do what she wanted it to. But here on G889 it was impossible for him to maintain that perfection so he had let it slip.
"Bess," he said, looking around. Then, he saw the three women sitting at the table in the far corner and headed for them. When he saw the stuff neatly stacked on the table and the inventory file up on the screen, he apologized, "I'm sorry. I forgot today was inventory. I'll come back later." He turned to leave, looking very dejected. Bess was surprised when Devon called him back.
"It's all right, Morgan," she said. "Bess, I think you've helped out enough today. Eben and I can finish. And I'm sure Julia would rather be around to supervise when we get into her supplies. Three sets of hands are enough."
"In other words; we don't need you," Eben clarified, smiling. "Go spend time with your husband." She grinned at Bess. The group knew that Morgan and Bess were still, technically, newlyweds. Two years wasn't a long time and they were still learning about each other. As the crew came to accept and care for the couple they became more patient and forgiving towards them.
"Are you sure?" Bess questioned. She did not get to her feet, but she was having to hold onto the table to keep her seat. She wanted, very much, to go off with Morgan, to forget about the problems of the group for a little while. But she also knew she had a job to do. She did not want to abandon Devon and Eden.
"Yes, I'm sure," Devon said. "Now would you two get out of here."
"You're practically holding yourself in that seat, Bess," Eben said, teasing. "And I don't want to have to look at your sulky face if you stay." Bess stood up, kicking the chair back.
"Thanks," she said. "I'll make up for it later." Then, she smiled up at Morgan and moved to his side.
"Are you sure there's nothing else you should be doing?" she asked Morgan. "Aren't you supposed to be helping Yale stack the wood pile?" Bess hated herself for asking this question. She knew Morgan wouldn't worm out of his duties, like he used to. He grinned at her.
"Bess, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to get rid me." She gave him that look which meant he was not being funny. He gave a short laugh, then added, "Done already. We finished about a minute ago." She smiled up at him. He slipped his arm around her, as she did the same and they left the dome.
"Come on, Bess." Morgan said, lead his wife to their tent. "I have something to show you."
As they stepped up to the tent Bess became aware, peripherally, that Morgan had tied one of his neckties to the tent pole, just over the flap. A smiled crept onto her lips; this told her a little something about the surprise. She was the one who had devised the signal to let the others know they did not want to be disturbed. Morgan had been mortified by it. He did not want to announce to the entire camp what they were up to. Even if they weren't, he knew that the group was thinking he and Bess were. But he had given in. The alternative, he decided, was much worse.
"What, Morgan?" she asked, cheerfully. She loved surprises, especially Morgan's surprises.
"Just wait," he told her. "You'll see in a minute." He ushered her into their tent, ducking in after her.
"What's this, Morgan?" she asked when she saw the new arrangement of the tent. Their cots had been moved to the edges of the tent, instead of in the middle, pushed together like they usually were, and their blankets were laid out in the center of the tent, on the ground, plush side up. At the edge was a thermos, cups and two packets of spirolina, left from yesterday. Both of them had chosen not to eat theirs yesterday, saving them for later.
"It's part of the surprise," he said, still being evasive.
"It looks like a picnic," she said, smiling. She loved picnics. She and Morgan used to go to the arboretum, on the station and have picnics, just like people used to on Earth when it was alive like this planet.
"Yep, it does," he said. Then he pulled out a set of VR gear from his pocket. Bess glared at it.
"Morgan, you know how I feel about VR," she reminded. "I know Bess but this is different," he assured her. Bess, didn't like VR. She did not fully understand Morgan's obsession with it but she had put up with it, most of the time. The few times she had joined him though, she had enjoyed herself. Especially, after their second wedding, here on this planet. She loved to dance and the reception program Morgan had created was wonderful.
"I know you're gonna love this, trust me." He held out the gear to her and she, grudgingly, let him slip it onto her head. She adjusted it as she watched him put his gear on.
"All right, Morgan. But this better be good," she told him, good naturedly. He smiled, broadly and took her hand.
"Now, come sit here," he said, guiding her to the pallet. She sat down beside him. "Comfy?" he asked, before he moved the VR eyepieces into place. She nodded and adjusted her eyepiece.
Morgan activated the program and was rewarded with a gasp of surprise from his wife.
Bess Martin sat on a beach. The bright sun shone high in the crystal blue sky as clouds drifted lazily by. A cool breeze blew in with the tide and the chill water lapped at her bare toes, as it rose and then slipped away, dragging sand from under her feet. She noticed that she was wearing her favorite dress, one she never got to wear anymore. The one with the small cheerful flower print. She turned and smiled at her husband. He sat next to her, in a short sleeve blue shirt and tan trousers, rolled up to the knee.
"Wow, It's beautiful, Morgan," she exclaimed. "How did you do it?" she asked. She knew he was good at creating VR programs, but not this good.
"Well, I had help," he admitted. "I got Yale to tell me everything he knew about the ocean and beaches. I wanted to make it as real as possible. Did it work?" He asked.
"Yah, it did," She reached over to brush his cheek, her heart skipping. "How did you know I wanted to go to the beach."
"I remembered you saying how you wished you could've gone to the beach with Devon, Danziger, Julia and Alonzo. I knew I couldn't take you there. But, I thought this would be the next best thing."
Bess gazed out over the water, it seemed infinite, and the sun bounced off it, shimmering in the waves. It was beautiful. She had been envious of those four and the time they had spent on the beach. The beaches on earth had been polluted for so long, nobody in their right mind went anywhere near them. So, even though she was an Earth Res, she had never seen a beach or water like this.
"I didn't know it was going to be this. . . wow," he said. "I checked it out this morning after you left the tent. That's why I came running to find you as soon as I finished my shift." He reached beside him and opened the picnic basket which sat beside him. In it was a bottle of wine.
"Here, I brought this for us," he said as he popped the cork. He handed her a long stemmed wine glass and filled it.
"You did this all for me?" she said, surprised to find herself blushing. He nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat, not trusting his voice. She still had the power to make him forget his own name, when she looked at him that way.
She put the wine glass aside and placed her small hands, gently on his shoulders, leaning over to kiss him. Slowly, and without any protestation from him, she pushed him down onto the blanket. She felt one of his gentle, caressing hands come to rest at the small of her back, as the other buried itself under her hair, curving around the nape of her neck.
The world around them fizzled and fitzed as their gear interfered with each other's. Bess, growled, slightly and pulled the gear off her head, disappearing out of the scene.
"Hey, Bess, where 're you going? Come back," Morgan said, trying to remember how to breath. Then, his gear was ripped off his head and he was back in their tent in the winter camp. Bess was kneeling beside him, both sets of gear in her hand. She tossed them aside.
"But what about the beach?" he asked, gesturing toward the gear. She smiled, and gave him a quick kiss.
"Morgan Martin, right now, I don't care where I am," she told him. He smiled that disarmingly sweet smile of his.
"Oh," he managed before her lips captured his again. The beach, the winter camp, and the cold all were soon forgotten, as hands and lips conspired against coherent thought to strip away the mundane concerns which carried on outside the tent.
Bess's final coherent thought was, *Boy, I'm glad Morgan put that neck tie up out there.*
Each of us has our own way of coping with the cold and lack of food here. Some may seem frivolous to others. But what does it matter, as long as they keep us from killing each other before this winter ends.
Morgan Martin
-The End-
Comments and feedback to:
paula.sanders@shawnee.org//Recieved by e-mail on 24 Jun 95
This text file was ran through PERL script made by Andy. Original text file is available in Andy's Earth 2 Fan Fiction Archive.