Jacob "Mute" Burnley

Mute stared into a mirror. He looked the part, but he was concerned about more than looking presentable. He had to prepare his mind, as well, the fear of rejection weighing down on him. He turned to leave, stepping out of his quarters and into a long hallway. Metal doors lined each wall, save for sections of the building that were missing.   While sturdy, the complex was a ruin. They were all ruins. This fact was the one he struggled with the most when he came to Safeharbor. Humanity survives on the bones of those who came before.   He walked down the hall to the makeshift elevator. Stepping inside, he pressed the down button and crossed his arms. He heard the sound of metal on metal as the elevator began its descent. The shaft was open, a section of the building stripped and butchered for parts.   He could see for miles. He saw the faint light through cracks and windows as others woke and began their day. He saw the steam and smoke billowing from Caydie's Cradle in the distance. He watched the blue star creep over the horizon and scoffed. Beats the station, Mute thought. Can’t find much better than this view.   When the elevator stopped, he stepped out. He casually walked along the metal ground, avoiding patches of wet, red moss that covered most of the planet-wide city. He watched as people appeared and disappeared from view.   He knew it would be an eventful day, but dreaded every moment of it. He paused and waited for the tram to arrive. He wondered how late it would be, if it showed up at all. Last week it was a roadblock, a collapsed building. It took a hundred people to clear it off the tramway. He came prepared, though. He wouldn't need to be at his destination for another two hours.   In the end, he arrived at the admiral's office fifteen minutes early. Mute remembered her voice. How could he forget? When he arrived, it was the only other human he heard in years, apart from Caydie's . She reached over to a rectangular device on her desk and pressed a red button. Only then did she ask him to enter...

  Jacob Burnley?   It's Mute, ma'am.   Allright, then. Mute, my name is Miranda Thrace. Please have a seat. This will be recorded, just letting you know. For the record, I've read nothing pertaining to you and your past. This includes all those interrogations from when you first landed. I have a brief overview, a resume. You may be repeating yourself a bit, but I like a non-biased approach when dealing with the Wayfarer Initiative. Success is based on merit alone.   That's a relief. I've been worried.   Are you not liking your celebrity status?   Well, no. I'm not a fan of crowds. My point is I don't want preferential treatment.   That's fair. I doubt you have much to worry about. You've shown how skilled you are. How many classes have you tested out of?   I have no idea. I'm told 84% of training.   That… that's impressive. Well done. I assume that's due to your life on a space station?   Absolutely. The life of a wayfarer is surprisingly similar.   How so?   I know how to pilot a ship, and how to maintain it. I know how to repair and operate equipment and can learn the same with other technology made by other species.   That's a bold claim.   You don't always have to know how it works to fix it or operate it. Our warp drives were given to us by the Eden, we don't know how they work at all, and yet, repairing them isn't exactly complicated. Troubleshoot it, take what's broken off, and put its replacement back on. Simple.   I see. Tell me about your life.   That's a bit of a broad topic. I was born on a space station and worked as a scavenger since I was 15. I was one of 10 humans living there at the time.   What happened to the others?   My mother died due to an outbreak on the station. That happened from time to time. The others faded away. Some left on passenger ships, and others died during the first war, taken by siliue science ships.   How did you survive?   My mother spent what she had to get me vaccinated. As far as avoiding the purge, I got lucky. I was salvaging a mining barge when the siliue came. When I got back, I was alone. I didn't have a translator and no one could look me in the eye anyway, so I started calling myself Mute. It was easier for most on the station to pronounce.     How did you communicate? How were you able to sustain a job without communication?   You'd be surprised how far body language can get you. When that doesn't work, experience and repetition can be enough. I rarely failed to understand what was being asked of me.     You lack some of the more telling signs of being born in space. You're adapting well to the gravity here and you seem average in height and weight. Why is that?   My mother worked throughout her pregnancy and saved up as much as she could. Most stations have a medical program for infants that help maintain bone and muscle growth despite having less than optimal gravity. These programs also help build the immune system and being around so many other species helps with that as well.   That takes a special kind of woman. I'm sorry you lost her.   I've healed for the most part, though it never goes away. Take my name. It was the last thing I heard her say and until very recently, one of the last things I heard from a human.   Completely unrelated, it’s just the next question, so don't take offense. Mental and physical health history?   I understand. Nothing to worry about.   What does that mean?   It means from my perspective, I'm fairly normal. The only exception is that I tend to be forgetful and struggle with motivation.   In the navy, we call that laziness.   Really? Do you think I'd be able to skip the majority of training if I was just lazy?   Point taken. Executive dysfunction perhaps. A psychological evaluation is required before you can successfully join the wayfarers. Maybe we can help.   I'm confused. I'm sorry but I don't really see how any of this reveals my merit. You said you have my resume, by definition, that is a reflection of my capabilities.  

Miranda reached out and stopped the recording. She sighed and shook her head, the look on her face was hard, colder than before. Mute assumed she wasn’t much for smiling, but this caught him off guard.   “Did I say something?” he asked.   “Listen very carefully. I’m in the military. That means I have superiors to answer to, even as the admiral.” She paused and adjusted herself, shifting in her seat before continuing, “The Elders of Safeharbor are not particularly fond of the wayfarers. They make it my job to try and dissuade recruits from joining.”   “You’re asking me to quit?”   “Absolutely not,” she said, shaking her head and giving the slightest smirk. She clasped her hands together and rested them on her desk. “I’m just explaining what will happen when I begin recording again. I’m not one for government meddling. I want you to make your own decision, no matter how much I insist.”   “I understand, but what's the point? I never heard of any tension going on. ”   “Frankly, I doubt the wayfarers even know it exists,” she replied, reaching for the recorder again. "There isn't a single answer on this recording that they care about. They will skip everything leading up to what I'm about to ask you. It's a front. They want you anxious when you walk into this room, makes you easier to manipulate."

  Mute, forgive me for saying, but I strongly believe you’d be wasted among the wayfarers. The navy could use someone as skilled as you. I could pull some strings to speed things along. You could have your own ship in a year.”   Oh, no I think I'm good. That was a little out of line, don’t you think.   Not at all, though I understand. The option is there. I meant every word. Honestly, I could use someone like you. Well thank you, but I think I’ll stick to my original plan, assuming I qualify.   You more than qualify. I’ll send your information over to Dawn. Thank you for your time.  

Mute shook his head. When she stopped recording, he laughed. “Do they seriously think that’s going to get people to change their minds?” Miranda took a deep breath before answering, “You’d be surprised how often it does. You only need navigational training and combat training to make it official. I’ve already scheduled navigation. You need to be at the orientation complex in Dawn. The course begins tonight at 8.” She paused and watched as he nodded and stood up from his seat. She didn’t speak again until he nearly left the room. “Good luck.”