by C. Gockel
“Let me go make you something,” James said. He had fuzzy memories of cooking elaborate meals—he didn’t think he could recreate them. But following instructions on the back of a soup packet seemed possible. And he wouldn’t mind a snack himself.
Noa’s mouth dropped open again. Shaking her head, she looked away. “Sure, yes, thanks, that would be great.”
James left her there and padded into the kitchen. He found the small remainder of the admittedly excellent soup tucked in the refrigeration unit, still in a pot. Putting the pot on the gas stove, he struggled to turn it on—the electric spark would not light. And then he noticed a box of old-fashioned matches sitting off to the side. His eyebrows lifted. He looked at the stove and shook his head. The electronic spark must have been disabled with the ethernet shut down. He struck a match, turned on the gas, and watched the flame leap to life. Shaking out the match, he almost sighed. Welcome to 1984 … and then, at memory of that particular year, and the novel by Orwell of the same name, he almost smiled wryly. But of course the smile didn’t come.
Self-consciously touching the corner of his lips, he found a large spoon and begin to stir the pot as the soup slowly heated. Some of the soup splattered on his arm and he rolled up his sleeves. As the soup warmed, he began to notice the markings on the arm exposed to the steam becoming more prominent. Dropping the spoon, he pulled his hand away. He heard a shuffling noise, and turned to see Carl Sagan standing on his hind legs sniffing at the air, staring at James. He hastily rolled down his sleeves again.
Noa caressed the tiny hologlobe she’d found on the end table next to the couch. It fit easily in her palm and her fingers left streaks in the dusty surface. Light flickered from within the globe. James re-entered the room, bowls of soup in hand, and Carl Sagan followed in his wake. Perhaps enchanted by the fragrance of the soup, the werfle’s bewhiskered nose twitched as he sniffed.
“That looks to be old,” James said as the picture in the hologlobe emerged like a scene rising out of fog. It was one of the old globes that only had one holo in them, too. You could tell by the way the colors were muted. “What is it?” James asked.
Noa shook her head and put it on the coffee table in front of the couch, her mouth watering at the smell of soup.
As she took her first slurp, the sound in the globe crackled. “I met Jun at a transport station in Nigeria.” The ‘smoke’ in the globe solidified and a man and woman appeared. The man looked East Asian; the woman was African in appearance with skin as dark as Noa’s. She wore a Japanese yukata, but the bright yellow, blue, and geometric-patterned garment appeared to be cut from traditional Nigerian cloth. They both had sparkling augments in their temples smaller than modern ones, without all the external drives for app insertion.
Noa smiled. “That’s my great-great-great grandmother and grandfather! Eliza never knew them.” Her head tilted. “I wonder why Eliza has this?”
Noa traced the phantom figure of the man in the holo with a finger. He was visibly ethnically Japanese, with a slightly hooked nose, almond-shaped eyes, slender chin and slight frame. “Both our families were purist groups,” her great, great, something grandfather said.
The image of Noa’s grandmother within the globe shook her head. “Purist groups, they’re like religious sects, they always urge women to have a lot of babies. Controlling women’s fertility is how they maintain their existence. But ever since I was a little girl, I knew that wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to be in any of the careers that were slightly acceptable to girls—I wanted to build rocket ships!”
Noa’s smile faded. She could see why Eliza might have this. Purist groups, religious sects … her own home planet. It was true, she supposed. If Noa’s own parents hadn’t been outsiders here, that would have been her life. As it was, she’d still felt the pressure to conform to that lifestyle. Nice girls didn’t “borrow” antigrav bikes, hop onto freight cars, or spend years mastering martial arts. Nice girls were demure, modest and let the men in their lives take the risks while they tended the home fires. Maybe her risk-taking personality as a kid was just a counterbalance to that pressure? To prove to herself that she could be brave and fierce? And maybe the reason why she’d wanted to be a pilot, and then later, part of command, was because it was the furthest from the status in Luddeccean society she could imagine being? She put her spoon down. Maybe, if she hadn’t been from Luddeccea, she would have been happy with some other career; maybe she could have been perfectly content as an engineer, or one of the Fleet’s analysts. But the risk-taking had altered her brain chemistry, wired her for risks … she had hated being First Officer.
The voices in the holo changed to static. Picking it up and surveying the bottom, James said, “A penny for your thoughts?”
Noa blinked up at him.
Catching her gaze, he added, “It’s a very old expression. It means … ”
“I know what it means,” Noa said with a wave of her hand. Her brow furrowed. “Not that I know what a penny is … ” Her eyes slid to the side.
“It was a unit of currency that … ” James’s voice drifted off. “Actually, I’m not interested in reciting the history of the penny. I’m wondering what you’re thinking and if it will somehow get me into trouble.”
Noa laughed and swallowed another spoonful of soup. “I was actually just thinking about every damn report I’ve had to do on blue-green algae.”
James said in a cautious voice, “Sounds harmless enough.” His eyes slid to hers. “It is harmless, isn’t it?”
“I can’t begin to tell you how harmless it is, except for the kind that excreted hydrochloric acid.”
James’s eyebrows shot up. Noa waved a hand. “No, it was great, actually. The discovery of that algae was the only time anything interesting happened. The Republic’s Committee on the Search for Sentient Space-going Races is so obsessed that even blue-green algae has to go through fourteen different tests for sentience on the off chance that it could be a hive-mind organism.”
James’s brows constricted. “It could be … ”
Swallowing a spoonful of soup, Noa groaned. “But it’s not! It hasn’t been. I’ve cataloged over 100 species since I became First Officer aboard the Sugihara.”
“I thought you were a pilot, not a scientist?”
Noa dropped her spoon. “I’m not a scientist, but I’m good at whipping up reports—” She raised her fingers to make air quotes. “—in plain Basic.” Dropping her hands, she said, “I hate it. And then getting the sign-offs from the Fleet and the inter-Republic agencies … it’s such a pain in the ass, and it has to go to someone who is meticulous, organized, and charming.” She harrumphed.
As she finished her soup, she spouted off about all the stupid, redundant things she had to do to obtain authorization for a Fleet ship even to enter the atmosphere of a planet with blue-green algae. Talking was better than nightmares and thinking about contingency plans if Eliza didn’t come through. But by the time she was almost, but not-quite-done with her rant, she leaned back and realized aloud, “I’m boring even myself!” She looked over at James. “You’re cursing the fact that this is all going down in your holographic memory, aren’t you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Not out loud.”
She laughed softly and closed her eyes, and leaned her head back, just for a moment.
When she opened her eyes, it was still dark, but she heard the pterys outside announcing the imminent rise of the sun within the hour. There was a light streaming from the hallway, beyond the living room, backlighting 6T9’s half-clothed form and Eliza’s bent frame. Eliza had one hand on the ‘bot; the other was wrapped around a cane.
“I’ve made up my mind,” Eliza said. “I won’t lend you the money.”
Noa sat up with a start. During the night her feet had somehow managed to find their way onto James’s lap. She might have flushed with embarrassment, but Eliza’s words had chilled her to the bone. James was sitting up in his seat, leaning forward, wide-eyed.
&n
bsp; “But I will pay you to book two flights of passage.”
“What?” said Noa, wondering if she had wandered into another bad dream.
“One for me,” Eliza said nervously. “One for 6T9.”
“Oh, where are we going?” said 6T9, looking back and forth between the humans, a slight smile on his lips.
“That’s impossible,” Noa protested, swinging her legs off the couch and standing up.
James stood up beside her. “Eliza,” James said, “Noa hasn’t told me her plans for procuring the ship we need—but I know they will be very dangerous. You do not have the physical strength.”
Noa remembered nearly falling down the stairs last night at Ghost’s place, and struggling to climb up the ladder from the safe room. Maybe she didn’t have the physical strength, either.
“6T9 will be my strength,” Eliza said, patting his arm. “He will carry me if necessary.”
“I am programmed to sweep her off her feet, literally and figuratively,” 6T9 said with a proud smile.
“6T9 will be an energy hog,” Noa said. That was the other reason AIs and ‘bots never took hold. They consumed massive amounts of power.
“I’ll keep him in sleep mode when he’s not needed!” Eliza said.
Noa took a deep breath. “Eliza, if you get hurt, you’ll endanger the whole mission, everyone on it, and everyone on Luddeccea.”
Eliza looked down, and her knuckles went white.
“If we pull this off, we’ll get help here in a few months,” Noa whispered. If they could get past the gauntlet of the Local Guard above Luddeccea Prime, if they could coax the Ark to light speed, and if they could reach the Kanakah Cloud and activate the Fleet’s time gate …
Eliza looked up suddenly. “I’m going,” she whispered. “I gave my life for this colony, and my children’s and husband’s lives for their philosophy.” Her wrinkled face crumpled further. “I’m being selfish now … ” She took a deep breath and stood taller. She nodded. “If I’m badly hurt while trying to take the ship, you can leave me behind.”
“And me, too,” said 6T9. He pulled Eliza’s hand to his stomach and gazed down at her. “I won’t leave you.”
Eliza beamed up at him. “I know. That’s why I won’t leave you behind, either.”
Noa resisted the urge to growl. Eliza was anthropomorphizing him and it was going to cost them a whole lot of trouble. 6T9 would be useless aboard the ship, he wasn’t the brightest ‘bot on the assembly line.
Eliza’s eyes flashed toward her. “I can offer you more than just my money. You can use my hover, and my time, and I’ll do anything you ask … but I’m leaving this place, and 6T9 is coming with me.” She drew herself up to her full height— diminished though it was. “Take it or leave it.”
11
James’s feet splashed in the thankfully shallow runoff water in the circular tunnel of the Luddeccea Prime’s main sewer line. On his back he carried a pack stuffed with credits. Noa had wanted Eliza to drive them closer to Ghost’s abode; unfortunately, Eliza was too shaky to pilot the hover. She’d been relying on an “ethernet chauffeur” for years. So now they were hiking again, this time without Carl Sagan.
“She’s crazy,” Noa grumbled beside him. Her breathing was slightly labored, although their pace wasn’t particularly fast. “You saw how she thinks of 6T9 as a person!”
James tilted his head. “Eliza is the only person on the planet who has any experience in the Ark.”
“She won’t make it to the Ark! She’s too frail. She’ll be injured and shot … ” Noa waved a hand.
“If she makes it, she may be useful, but if she is shot, you can leave her behind,” James said. Noa might have experience flying the same model ship as the Ark, but every ship had its idiosyncrasies—even James knew that.
Drawing up short and spinning toward him, Noa said, “How can you say that?”
James came to a halt and tried to work out what had offended her.
“She’s like an aunt to me!” Noa said. “A crazy aunt, but an aunt just the same! How can you suggest I just leave her?”
James stared at her. “Because that is her wish?”
Noa frowned. “How can you be so unfeeling?” she hissed.
James tilted his head. He didn’t have any feelings toward Eliza, either positive or negative; but, if Noa was injured, he knew he couldn’t leave her behind. It wasn’t rational, and he had no explanation for it. “I have feelings,” he said. Noa drew back. She took a breath, and then turned away. “If we didn’t have so little time … I would have convinced her not to come.”
Breathing heavily, she continued on the path back to Ghost’s lair. “As it is—” They reached a wide fork in the tunnel. The faint echo of voices sounded from the left. James grabbed her arm and drew her against the wall. Noa’s eyes met his. She didn’t speak or ask questions, but she inclined her chin to a branch off the main line just across from them. It was much smaller, just wide enough to crawl through, and it was at shoulder height. James nodded; the voices were getting closer, and they had to hide. They moved to the other side of the tunnel. Noa reached up and gritted her teeth. James had a memory of helping a girlfriend up onto a horse. Looping his hands, he nudged her with his shoulders. Dropping her eyes, she caught his meaning immediately. She slipped a boot between his fingers, gave a bounce at the same time he gave a lift, and she disappeared down the shaft a few moments later. James followed, the sound of the Guard sloshing in shallow water echoing in his ears.
Heart beating in her throat, Noa sat with her back to the wall in the thankfully drier secondary sewer shaft. She held her breath, afraid even that could give them away. She felt James’s legs brush hers and could just make out the sound of his breathing. Light from the Guard’s flashlights reflected from the water in the sewers, and for a moment she could almost make out his features across from her. A few minutes ago she’d felt so angry at him for his lack of compassion that she thought she might self-combust. That feeling was gone now, and all she felt was relief that he was here and she wasn’t alone.
From the tunnel, she heard the sound of retreating footsteps and a patrolman say, “This tunnel is clear.” The patrol had just missed them. They must not have seen the small tributary they were hiding in. The patrol didn’t have a map of the sewers stored in their neural nets like James and Noa did.
Noa closed her eyes and waited for the sound of their voices and footsteps to fade. Lifting her head, she mouthed the word, “safe?” knowing that James would be able to read her lips even in the nearly pitch blackness of the narrow shaft.
“Yes,” he whispered.
James scooted to the comparatively brighter main tunnel and then lowered himself down. Noa followed. Her arms shook as she lowered herself, but James caught her and she landed gently. Feeling a bit guilty for the way she’d snapped at him earlier, Noa whispered, “We make a good team.”
He didn’t reply. “Thanks for the lift earlier.” She sighed and started down the tunnel. “I don’t know who will be more a danger to the team—Eliza or me.” She ground her teeth. What they were planning to do—well, they had no plan, and little hope.
“Leg-up,” James whispered.
“What?” Noa said.
“In equestrian circles, we call that lift a ‘leg-up.’”
“You were in equestrian circles?” Noa asked.
“I just remembered, I used to play polo.”
Noa stopped in a slanting beam of sunlight coming through a grate above their heads. She had to throw a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud at the completely random statement. Biting said hand to stifle the chortle, she looked up at James. He raised an eyebrow and whispered, “I am glad you find that amusing.”
“Rich much?” she asked, resuming her path down the tunnel. Horses—polo—enormous off-world country “cottage”?
James looked heavenward.
“Should I have told Ghost we could have given him double his money on arrival at Sol Station?” Noa chided in
a hushed voice.
James stopped short. His jaw twitched—as it did when she expected a smile or a frown. “No … I … since the accident, I am not sure … ”
Noa’s smile dropped. “The augments … your family … ” Enhanced sight, his appearance, his strength—James’s augments were state of the art. “They spent it all on you.”
James looked at the ground. “I think maybe … ”
Noa put her hand on his arm. “Hey, at least you’re here.”
James looked up at her. Raising both brows, he looked pointedly down at the puddled water beneath their feet and then up at her. “Joy,” he said.
And Noa had to bite back her laughter again. As they continued down the tunnel, her eyes slid to James. She could just barely see him in the dim tunnel. He carried the backpack swung over one shoulder. She trusted him implicitly with the burden. He could have left her behind long ago—but he hadn’t. And he wasn’t Fleet, or Luddeccean, but of all the off-worlder civilians to be stuck with, well, she could have done much worse. And he had that dry wit of his. She smiled to herself.
“What?” James whispered.
They had too many serious moments ahead of them. She wasn’t about to let the ball of levity drop in this moment of calm. Alluding to a silly tee-vee show from the United States in the 1970s, Noa whispered, “The six-million credit man.”
James didn’t smile, of course. But she knew he found it funny, when, in a perfect imitation of the strange sound effects of the show, he said, “Sprrrrrooooooyoooyoooinnnngggg.”
“Ghost’s not answering,” Noa whispered. She was hanging on a rusty ladder about a meter from James’s head, rapping on an equally rusty metal hatch. The ladder continued up to a manhole. Sunlight was streaming over Noa, turning her skin to dark orange. Occasionally someone would walk overhead and Noa would press herself to the wall.