Stowaway

by John David Anderson

  If you were rich, you didn’t colonize—you vacationed. Thousands booked passage on luxury space liners where you could marvel at the surface of Cerberon 7 from the viewport of your spacious cabin, only a short stroll from the spa. Then you came home to your climate-controlled compound on Earth and bragged to the jealous kids in your class how you got to spend your summer.

  However, most who left never came back.

  What started out as a trickle swelled into a stream, as more and more humans said goodbye to the only home they’d ever known. For some it was the thrill of conquering the final frontier. For others it was a chance to start over.

  For Leo it hadn’t been a choice; he’d simply been told to pack. The Aykari had given Dr. Fender an opportunity to serve—to assist the Coalition, advance science, and aid humanity all at once. It was everything he ever wanted. Or at least everything he believed in.

  But deep down, Leo always suspected that his father was also running away. From a planet that was slowly falling apart and a house that was haunted by the ghost of the only woman he ever loved.

  Pack light. That’s what his father had said to him, and Leo had tried. But there’s no accounting for the weight of memory.

  And there are some things you just can’t let go of.

  The first thing Leo noticed when he entered through a second set of doors was the carpet.

  Actual carpet.

  How long had it been since Leo had seen—no, since he had felt carpet? Three years aboard a ship with ice-cold metal floors that nipped at your toes if you dared walk across them barefoot. But here was a plush and precious shag covering the length of the room. He ached to take his boots off, slip out of his socks, and feel the soft piles of blue-tinted fibers brush against his soles, but he thought it might be rude.

  The wonder that is carpeted flooring was soon overshadowed by other discoveries as Leo’s eyes swept over the giant room. It was like stepping through a portal, jumping across both space and time, and landing back on Earth, but an Earth that hadn’t even seen an Aykarian cruiser yet. The furniture—soft fabric and solid wood, not cold steel and molded plastic. Lights hanging from the ceiling with old-fashioned screw-in bulbs, not embedded strips chemically radiating lumens along the wall. There was even a fireplace, though that might just be for show: there was no fire burning and Leo hadn’t noticed a chimney. In front of the fireplace sat a couch, though from where he stood, Leo could only see the back of it. Still, he imagined it would have to be more comfortable than the cot he’d slept on for the last three years.

  Leo took slow, measured breaths, slowly spinning, absorbing it all. The walls were painted vivid pinks and greens and purples, at least what you could see of them in between the gild-framed oil paintings and posters for old movies that his grandfather used to talk about, movies like Jaws and Jurassic Park. Giant oak cases, two stories high, were jammed with books (real ones again) and trinkets—toy models and stuffed animals and mysterious chunks of glittering rock that hopefully weren’t radioactive. On one shelf Leo spotted a diamond-crusted tiara sitting on the head of a bald, yellow, one-eyed alien holding a banana—a species he didn’t recognize. Another shelf held what looked to be a collection of empty drink bottles—one was Dr Pepper. Plastic action figures lined up to do battle. A cascade of automobile license plates covered one section of wall; a rack full of ancient weapons—Earth weapons, swords and axes—hung on another. A shelf full of tiny glasses. A display of candy bar wrappers. The room was Baz’s treasure chest times a thousand.

  “What is this place?” Leo asked no one in particular.

  “It’s our little slice of home,” said a voice.

  Leo followed the sound to a young man dressed in a blue mink coat to match the carpet and a pair of yellow-and-red-striped bathing trunks revealing a pair of deep brown, stork-like legs. His shag of black hair shot off like a burst firework. He looked younger than Baz, older than Kat. He was shorter than both.

  This, apparently, was one of the jackers. That’s what Leo called them. They had other names, he knew: Networms. Moles. Cypirates. There were kids at school who had aspirations of one day dropping out and becoming one of these. The same kids who would access the school database to change their evaluations or steal someone else’s identity and go on a shopping spree. His species had been hacking into computer systems for over a hundred years, Leo knew, long before they knew the Aykari or Djarik even existed.

  Maybe it was just human nature—to go where you aren’t supposed to.

  Of course when the network suddenly grew to be galaxy-wide, there were a lot more places you weren’t supposed to go, and the jacker’s skill set got even more valuable. Especially in certain circles.

  Leo knew that jackers weren’t to be trusted. They stole valuables and sold them to the highest bidder. They operated outside the law. They looked out for only themselves.

  Sort of like pirates.

  And yet here he was, hoping—praying—that they would help him. What circle did that put him in?

  “If it isn’t Bastian Black,” the man approaching them continued. “Captain Black Sparrow. The Bastian of Badness. Captain Badazz.”

  “Captain Badazz?” Kat whispered. “He’s not serious.”

  “Yeah. That one’s new,” Baz whispered back. “Hello, Dev. Nice to see you.” Leo wasn’t sure he really meant it.

  “And is that Katarina Corea hiding behind you? The girl with the titanium arm and the steely-eyed stare. How long has it been, Kat? A year? Two?”

  “Not long enough,” Kat said curtly.

  The jacker put a hand over his chest. “You wound me. Straight to the core. And who are Calvin and Hobbes here? Fearless additions to the crew?”

  “This is Bo’enmaza Okardo,” Baz said, pointing to Boo. “And this is Leo.”

  “Leo. Leonardo. Like the painter?” Dev snapped his fingers.

  “The ninja turtle,” Leo said.

  “Even better.” Dev grinned, a devious sort of smile that suggested to Leo that he had just unwittingly become part of some secret club. He slid up to Boo, running a finger along the sleeve of the Queleti’s robe. “I’m not sure what you are, but this robe is nice. What is this? Aykarian microfiber? Egyptian cotton?”

  “It’s mine,” Boo said brusquely, crossing all four of his arms.

  “Fair enough,” Dev said, taking a step back. “Probably a little big on me anyways. So what’s the deal, Cap?” he said to Baz. “What brings you to our lovely hunk of rock in the middle of nowhere? You on the run?”

  “Always,” Baz replied. “But that’s not why I came to see you.” He pulled the record back out of the satchel.

  “Ziggy Stardust,” Dev said. “A rare gem indeed.”

  “Near mint condition.” Baz handed it over. Leo still wasn’t sure how it worked or why you would need something so big to play music with, but judging by Dev’s saucer eyes, the captain had at least been right about its value. “I found it at a garage sale fifteen years ago,” he continued. “At the time there were only a hundred or so copies left. Who knows, by now this could be the only one.”

  Dev licked his lips, flipping the record over and over in his hands. “I know they say ventasium is the most precious thing in the universe, but vintage vinyl’s got to be a close second, am I right?” The man slipped a black disk the size of a small pizza from the cardboard sleeve and admired it. “Not a scratch,” he added. “This may be the only thing to make it halfway across the galaxy without a mark of some kind.”

  “It’s yours,” Baz said. “All I’m asking for in return is a little information.”

  Dev slid the disc back in its sleeve, eyes narrowing again. “And I’m guessing the kind of information you’re looking for isn’t easy to come by.”

  “I wouldn’t need someone like you if it was,” Baz admitted.

  Kat, apparently, figured that was enough flattery. She cut right to it. “We need you to hack into the Djarik security network.”

  Dev stared at her for a moment, th
en back at Black, holding it in for three whole seconds before exploding. His laugh grated on Leo’s ears—like a squeaky windshield wiper. “The Djarik military mainframe? You’re joking right?”

  Baz smiled and shrugged. Kat didn’t smile at all.

  “My stars and garters, you’re serious. You want me to infiltrate the Djarik military mainframe for Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars? Have you been licking kerodium crystals? Because something has definitely scrambled your brain.”

  “So are you saying you can’t or you won’t?” Kat pressed.

  “I’m saying, my beautiful minx, that it would be suicide. Their security is top-notch. Do you have any idea how tight the Djarik firewalls are? They’re nearly impossible to bust through. It’d be like trying to squeeze an elephant into a Dixie cup.”

  “What’s an elephant?” Boo whispered to Leo.

  “A really big animal with tusks,” Leo whispered back, measuring the space with his hands. “Like really big. Bigger than you.”

  “Ah.” Boo nodded. He thought for a moment. “What’s a Dixie cup?”

  The man in the swim trunks couldn’t stop laughing at Baz’s request. Maybe help wouldn’t be so easy to come by after all.

  “I mean, you must be out of your mind. You think I want a bounty on my head the size of yours?”

  “Come on, Dev. It’s not like we’re asking you to access weapons specs or anything,” Baz said. “I just need you to locate one person. A prisoner.”

  “Dr. Calvin Fender,” Leo interjected, getting the jacker’s attention. “He’s my father. He was captured several days ago. When our ship was attacked . . . the first time.” The last part slipped out. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe he meant to say it.

  Baz shot Leo a sidelong glance, then he turned back to Dev. “We need to know if the kid’s dad is still alive and where he’s being held. That’s all.”

  “Oh . . . that’s all.” Dev snorted. “That’s all. Seriously, Bizzazz, I don’t care if you just want directions to the nearest intergalactic porta potty, I’m telling you it’s not possible.”

  “Oh, it’s definitely possible,” a different voice said.

  The voice came from the couch, Leo realized. The one sitting in front of the cold, empty fireplace.

  “We’ve done it before,” the couch continued.

  Leo stood on his tiptoes. He could just make out a shoulder of someone lying there. Then the shoulder moved and the thing that had talked suddenly sat up, revealing both shoulders. And in between those shoulders . . .

  Leo gasped. He couldn’t help it.

  “Right. Probably should have warned you about that,” Baz said.

  The human sitting up had no head.

  There was a brain, to be sure—just no skull. No face. No hair. No teeth. Only a brain enclosed in a clear cylinder that was affixed to the rest of the body by a metal ring where the neck would be. A football-sized mound of wrinkly gray tissue, a lumpy sponge floating in clear liquid and attached to a tangled stem of nerves, tubes and wires, both organic and artificial, that disappeared into the ring, presumably snaking their way down into the thing’s body. As he sat up and turned around, the brain bobbed like a jellyfish.

  “Leo, Mac. Mac, Leo.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” the brain said, its voice emanating from the metal ring the jar was connected to, much like the speaker Skits was constantly whining out of.

  “Um. Uh. Hey.” Leo stammered, staring at the hunk of gray matter he’d just been introduced to. He had seen his fair share of prosthetics. Artificial eyes and ears. Cybernetic limbs like Kat’s. One kid back on Earth had her entire lower body replaced after a bad car accident; she was carbon fiber from the waist down. But he’d never seen a brain without a skull before—at least not one that was still attached and functioning. Leo studied the round aquarium-like contraption resting on the man’s shoulders. There were tiny sensors that might have acted as his eyes and ears, maybe even his nose as well. That is, if he still smelled things. Did he smell things? How did he even eat? “Your head . . .” Leo began.

  “Is missing. I’m aware,” Mac said. “I was there when it happened. The good news for you is that makes me, literally, the brains of this operation. And I’m telling you that what you are asking is possible.”

  “You are out of your freking mind, as always.” Dev turned back to the crew with his hands up. “Don’t listen to my partner. The Djarik security systems are brutal. If they track us—and they will almost certainly track us—they could infect us, blitz our rig, cause a surge that sabotages our whole setup. Or worse, they could literally, physically hunt us down. Home in on our location and send a warship here to bomb this whole place to the ground. No album is worth that. Sorry.” He shoved the record back into Baz’s hands.

  “But you just said you’ve done it before,” Kat pressed.

  “Yeah. Once. And we almost got busted for it. Took months to repair our system and get the Djarik off our scent. And the Aykari agents who asked for our help paid a lot more than you guys, I can tell you that.”

  Leo snorted. That couldn’t really be true, could it? The Aykari wouldn’t hire people like this, even if it meant undermining their enemy.

  Dev gave him a funny glance but continued. “Not to mention the Djarik security protocols have probably only gotten tougher since then. In case you haven’t noticed, there is a war going on out there.”

  “We’ve noticed,” Boo said.

  “So then you know it’s not a good idea to draw extra attention to yourself if you can help it.”

  “We know that too,” Kat said tartly. “At least some of us do,” she added, looking at Baz.

  “So then why are we even still talking?” Dev asked.

  “Because I think we can do it,” the floating brain countered. “We just have to be quick about it. If that’s the only information we need, then it should be possible to get in and out before they even know we’re there.”

  Dev shut his eyes. Sighed. Opened them. Put up a finger. “Would you excuse me a sec? My partner and I need to talk.” He spun around, his robe swirling with him, and stalked over to the couch. His agitated whisper wasn’t much of a whisper at all; Leo could hear every word. “What is your deal? You know how dangerous this is. And you don’t even like David Bowie.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Mac replied. “The kid is looking for his dad.”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s the human thing to do.”

  “I think you mean humane.”

  “Same difference. If it was your dad, wouldn’t you want help finding him?”

  “Are you kidding?” Dev fired back. “My father was a jerk. And besides, we aren’t talking about hacking into some civilian database to steal library card numbers. You’re really telling me you want to risk jacking into the Djarik network again? After what happened last time?”

  “All the more reason,” Mac said. “A little payback. Give those Scalies the middle finger. Besides, if we’re going in anyway, you never know what else we might find digging around. Could be some good dirt. A piece of juicy data worth the price of admission.”

  The two grew silent as if they were both staring straight into each other’s brain. After a moment, Dev groaned. “You’re going to get us into trouble. You know that.”

  “We’re already in trouble,” Mac said. “That’s why we are hiding out on this windblown rock in the middle of nowhere. Besides, it beats sitting on our butts playing video games all day.”

  “Says you. I like sitting on my butt playing video games all day. I thought that was the dream.”

  “The kid lost his dad,” Mac pressed. “I think we should at least try. If it gets too hot, we bail.”

  The man without a shirt clearly wasn’t convinced by the man without a face, but Leo could tell the discussion was over. The brains of the operation got the final say, it seemed.

  Dev came back to Baz, frowning, and snatched Ziggy Stardust back from his hands. “Fine. We’ll do it,” he said. “But no
promises. If it looks like we’re being bugged, I’m pulling the plug and keeping the record. Got it?”

  Baz nodded.

  “Also,” Dev continued, “I think this incredible act of generosity on our part deserves a little something extra. A bonus.” He looked straight at Kat, one eyebrow arched.

  She looked back at him. Both eyebrows arched. “Really?”

  “Just one kiss. Three seconds. No tongue. What do you say?”

  “I say I will break your heart.”

  “That’s a price I am willing to pay,” Dev admitted.

  “No. You don’t understand,” Kat continued. “I mean, I will literally dig my way into your chest with this claw and squeeze the still-beating thing to a bloody pulp in my cold, mechanical fist.”

  Kat’s eyes blazed, her cybernetic fingers already curled, but before she could make a move or Dev could rescind his request, the Queleti stepped close, grabbing the little man with all four giant furry arms. Leo was sure Boo was about to snap him in two, but instead he drew Dev close, sweeping him clear off his feet, their two robes mingling as Boo planted his black lips on the other’s thin pink ones.

  Boo held the man there, legs kicking, emitting muffled screams, one of the Queleti’s horns making a dimple in Dev’s cheek, before releasing him with an audibly wet smack.

  “Three seconds. No tongue,” Boo said.

  Dev stumbled backward, gagging, scrubbing his lips with the sleeve of his robe. “What is wrong with you? Why’d you do that?”

  “You were asking for it,” Boo offered.

  “You were asking for it,” Baz concurred. Kat smiled with satisfaction.

  Dev did not. His whole face was shocked red. But his partner was clapping.

  “That was the best thing I’ve seen in years. You definitely get our help now.” Mac pointed to a door with a poster for the movie called The Matrix. “This way to Cerebro.”