Sanctuary Thrive

by Ginger Booth

  This part made him especially nervous. This sector stood freshly hewn from the asteroid, rock with sealant but no walls or flooring yet, only power and data lines for lights tacked above, and unfinished ventilation ducts. The corridor was deserted at this hour. MO was a rough town. But Nico thought his planned route would bypass the bars and rowdy low-rent districts. He reset his own personal grav generator to 0.9 g, the way spacers did off-duty. And he set off to the docks.

  He loved his brother and sister, he really did. And the Greer twins were practically siblings, too, and closer to him in age. But Nico desperately yearned to graduate from big brother into a man.

  Tonight was the night.

  Socrates pretended to be asleep until his brother slipped out of the room. Then he hastily dressed to follow. The younger boy left his baggage behind.

  If Nico was going into space with their dads, Sock wanted to go, too.

  As Sass requested her ‘prime directives’, her own core programming unfurled around her.

  I am.

  I am female.

  I am Sassafras Collier.

  I am from Upstate New York.

  Protect and defend.

  Humanity must survive.

  Humanity depends on nature – protect the environment.

  Do unto others as you would have done unto you.

  Innocent until proven guilty.

  Mahina Colony must survive and thrive.

  Obey and protect the Colony Corps.

  None of this was news to her. Every single statement was simply true.

  Oh! These are the laws I hold to be self-evident…

  There were hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of these rules. Some she obviously acquired while human. She was a female Sass Collier long before her nanite injection. The nanites codified and transcribed rules she’d already adopted to define herself.

  But few statements were at the prime directive level – those few ‘I am’ identity statements, plus the mission statements, that she must protect and defend humanity and the environment.

  She tried updating the one about Upstate New York to say Mahina, but paused. She wondered if there were a way to test new directives. And she instantly knew how. She tried it and quickly saw that removing her origins on Earth was a terrible idea. Most of her identity built on that foundation.

  Yes, she was from Mahina now. But that wasn’t who she was.

  On a whim, she tried adding ‘I love Clay.’

  But the assertion greyed out, conceptually at least. She perceived these statements directly instead of reading them.

  She applied her ‘debugger’ to filter out all the statements, beliefs, directives, identities, and other mental dust catchers that prevented ‘I love Clay’ from firing. And she found it, in her very first impression of him. ‘Clay is a rich Fed.’ This statement activated decades of experience regarding what ‘rich’ and ‘Fed’ meant.

  She tried removing ‘rich’ experimentally, but that reasserted. He remained quite wealthy compared to her. Then she tried replacing ‘Fed’ with ‘cop’, ‘supervisor’, and a whole list of other identities, to see what those did to her conceptual model of the guy. But those too were damaging.

  Finally she tried decomposing the statement to debug it – ‘Clay is rich’ and ‘Clay is a Fed.’ Based on other experiments, she added ‘Clay is gorgeous.’ Then she inserted, right at the same level of her amassed conclusions in life, ‘Clay is one of the good ones.’

  Bingo. There was now a path for ‘I love Clay.’ She tried it experimentally. “Clay, I love you.” And she felt it, as never before. She only regretted her body wasn’t along for the ride. Not for sex, but because emotions without a body to feel them with, lacked a great deal.

  “I love you, too, Sass,” he replied. “According to this pile of crap, I fell in love the day I met you. No wonder it has so many defenses built on top.”

  “Whoa. That’s for sure.” Clay was her boss back then. She resented him from day one. No, he hadn’t been free to express his feelings. “I’m sorry, Clay. The stupid baggage was that I identified you as a rich Fed, on first glance. Silly, huh?”

  “Mm, no, that’s fair,” he judged. “If I was rich because I was a Fed, that meant I was a seriously dirty cop, with more power than you. Right?”

  “Oh, hell, yeah!” she agreed, remembering the damage done in the wake of dirty cops she’d worked with, especially a certain oh-so-very-rich bitch on Mahina. And professional to a fault, knowing how much the poor tent rat Sass resented his fortune, Clay didn’t confide he was born rich until decades later.

  “That’s it. That’s why my change worked. I simply uncoupled ‘rich’ from ‘Fed.’ Damn, these are sensitive!”

  “The rules we live by,” Clay agreed. “You were right. Worth cleaning up.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here. Otherwise, I’d be in a complete panic. But emotions don’t stick without a body, do they?”

  “I mostly feel them with my body,” Clay agreed. “Focus, Collier. Now that you’ve cast the beam from your own eye, let’s find a way to stick it to Shiva’s.”

  Good point.

  46

  Ben rose from the pilot seat. He’d just finished piloting them out of the gas giant Pono’s rings to a nice empty stretch of space. He remarked to his gunner Zan, “Final call to Sanctuary. Then Abel takes my chair for the warp jump.”

  “Respect, cap,” the ex-hunter replied. “But Abel hasn’t flown a ship since we arrived from Denali a decade ago.”

  Abel Greer served as first mate on Thrive for years. But since then he’d worked as a businessman on Mahina, CEO of Thrive, Inc., parent company to Thrive Spaceways, Cope and Ben’s outfit. Ben was astonished when not only Abel, but his wife Jules insisted they were in for the trip to Sanctuary.

  Abel’s point was that Ben needed a first mate capable of cutting a big deal. And he spent the past 28 hours proving his skills yet again. Ben would have pushed off with nothing but fuel if he had to. But no, Abel filled all eight containers, including four with fuel, plus one of trade goods.

  Abel’s wife Jules didn’t like space. But she didn’t like her creche-raised 13-year-olds much better. The creches were safe and convenient. But as the years flew by, the settler girl from the sticks felt ever less in common with her educated, institutionalized brats. And with the economic meltdown on Mahina, her real estate empire was a shambles. She was at loose ends for the first time in years, and grasped the chance to get away.

  As for Abel flying the ship – “How long does it take me to run the length of Prosper?” Ben countered. For this breakneck departure, he kept the warp generator on the shuttle. He’d handle the warp transition from there. The shuttle would stay clamped in its nook, nestled into Prosper’s middle.

  Zan chuckled. “Less than a minute.”

  “Yeah, and if we start to hurtle headlong into a planet? You and Abel can remember what to do.” The captain bopped Zan on the shoulder on the way out.

  He barely stuck his head into Teke’s cabin, where they kept the ansible. Teke verified, “No change at Sanctuary. Sass is still dead. When does that stop sounding weird?”

  “Never,” Ben assured him. “Comms check on Sora?” Teke’s old teacher on Denali would serve as their ansible relay to the Aloha system, with hefty time lags at light speed to contact Mahina.

  The physicist cast him a thumb’s-up.

  Ben commed Abel as he headed for the catwalk. “Abel, you are not in position. Get to the bridge and start the head count.”

  “Aye, cap. Just finished securing the last of the cargo. Abel out.”

  Ben vaulted the catwalk rail, then trotted to the ladder up to the shuttle, and inside. Strangely, he found the pressure door unsealed. Cope was the last one in here. Must be more stressed than I thought.

  Ben himself told the world to go away and got himself 8 solid hours of sleep before this departure. He expected the warp transit itself to go smoothly, but he had little idea what he faced in Sanctuary. Remi agreed
not to tell the locals to expect him.

  He glanced around. A closet door stood ajar, and he pushed it shut. Cope sure was sloppy today. Ben strapped in as Abel started the head count, everyone reporting their location and ready status for transition. “Captain on shuttle, pressure doors secured. Initiating star drive. I expect to be in the Sanctuary system in five. Kick back and enjoy the ride. Don’t miss the pretty light show on the forward cameras, in about two minutes.”

  He switched from public address to his more rarefied channel to Teke and Cope as he eased the power up.

  Cope growled, “Ben, check coordinates.”

  “Cope, we already did – that. What the…” Because of course he did check the jump settings, about 18 hours ago. But they’d changed. “Hell. Read them off to me again.” He unstrapped and stepped to the rear of the shuttle to recheck everything. “Hey, buddy, I think one of the kids got in here and played with things.”

  “Checklist from the top,” his husband insisted in his ear.

  They went through the whole spiel, but found nothing wrong except the navigation coordinates. That box awkwardly sat where someone could brush into it on the way past if they weren’t careful. The shuttle was seriously cramped with a star drive, fuel supply, and power regulators in here, not to mention the goofy moose antlers spread above it all.

  Out of an excess of paranoia, Ben poked an antler, then sent Cope a picture to make sure it didn’t matter if anyone screwed with those. But he confirmed they looked fine.

  Ben got on the ship-wide comms again. “Sorry for the delay, folks. Just a bit of last-minute caution. Casting warp gate in 10, 9, 8…” He flicked the switch, and the enormous fractal light show unfurled, whorls and curlicues and wispy angel hair, blues and purples and greens stretching for kilometers in every direction.

  “That never gets old. Looks rock steady and good to go. Cope, Teke, confirm when ready.” Abel and Zan on the bridge listened in on this channel, too. Ben checked that point.

  “Good to go on warp pattern,” Teke reported, after checking the readings.

  “Good to go on warp gate.” Cope sounded nervous as hell.

  Only one way to solve that. “Good to go on navigation. We are go in 3, 2, 1 – now.”

  A strangled squeak came from behind him. Ben whipped his head around, terrified of the pile of equipment behind him catching fire or something. He saw nothing. His neck lashed the other way to see the scene before him.

  A strange yellow planet hung before him, right side basking in the light of an orange sun. To hell with running to the bridge. Heart pounding, he checked their orbital integrity from here. His fingers flew over the navigation console to calculate their speed and elevation.

  Abel interrupted. “Captain, Sanctuary Control demands to know our intentions.” Abel’s voice didn’t cause Ben to interrupt his calculations.

  His 9-year-old son’s voice did that. “Daddy!” Socrates screamed and banged on the closet door. “Let me out!”

  Ben’s hand froze above the keyboard in horror. “Abel, do not respond. Find stable orbit and get us into it. Captain out.”

  He leapt from his seat. He knocked the navigation box askew again as he opened the closet door. The antlers knocked around, too, as Sock exploded out of the closet into his arms.

  “I’m sorry!” the terrified boy squealed. “Don’t tell Dad!”

  “Sock, what have you done!” Ben moaned. He grabbed the boy in a fireman’s carry. He unsealed the shuttle and leapt down the ladder on gravity. Gravity games were a hassle when carrying another person, so he ran up the main stairs. He banged the override to open the galley doors and thrust the boy inside.

  “Jules! Stowaway! I bet there’s another. Deal with this? Don’t tell Cope until I release from pressure.”

  Jules stood with her jaw hanging open, fists planted on both hips, powering up to give the kid a reaming. Ben couldn’t spare any sympathy for his youngest. He shut the door on them.

  Over the comms, Zan noted mildly, “Captain to the bridge. What’s the holdup?”

  “On my way.” Running flat-out, he took a dozen more steps to the bridge. Ben expended his momentum by banging into the pressure door, then punched it open. Abel hastily, gratefully, evacuated his seat for him, and re-sealed the door.

  “Problem, cap?” Abel inquired archly, as Ben slid into the pilot’s console.

  “Yes.” Rather than explain, Ben quickly re-checked the orbital stability. Abel had overcompensated. His navigation wasn’t worse, just wrong in a different way. The captain readjusted until they were stable. “Zan, unfriendlies?”

  “Lot of comms,” the gunner replied. “Ignoring them all.”

  Right. Time to talk to Sanctuary. No. “Cope, when will you be free to deal with another…distraction?”

  “What sort of distraction?” the chief asked suspiciously.

  “I asked first, Mr. Copeland.”

  “Rego hell, Ben, we just completed our first interstellar transit! At some point, I’ll need some sleep.”

  “Understood. Thank you, chief.” Ben clicked off and rubbed his face. “Abel. No, I need you for comms.”

  “The suspense is killing me,” Abel confided in Zan. “Captain, as first mate –”

  Ben raised a ‘wait’ finger, and switched channels. “Jules, do we know how many stowaways yet? Sock follows Nico.”

  Jules replied, “We’re still crying and cuddling. Ben, you can’t keep this from Cope. He’ll hit the roof.” Sock’s sobs redoubled. “No, sweetie, I didn’t mean your dad would be mad at you. Not exactly.”

  No, Cope will be furious at everybody. Ben most of all, he figured.

  Abel’s eyebrows rose half-up his forehead. “Hide them. Just for a few hours. And call the granddad. He’ll be going mental.”

  “Need to find them first,” Ben growled. “And then everyone in the ship knows except Cope?”

  Abel nodded slowly, in increasing dismay. Cope would hate them for life.

  The man himself interrupted the deliberation. “Cap, did you forget to release from pressure? We need a coffee refill.”

  “Screw it,” Ben breathed. He hit the public address channel. “Nico Copeland! Report immediately to the galley. Any other stowaways, that goes for you, too. Captain out.”

  “WHAT?!” his beloved screamed in his ear.

  “It had to be done,” Abel consoled Ben. The first mate got on the public address channel himself. “All hands, release from pressure. Welcome to Sanctuary. First mate out.”

  “Right,” Ben acknowledged. “Zan, you have the conn. Watch for threats. Remember Sass got attacked here. But we have the element of surprise. And we’re about to talk. I’ll take the ansible. Abel, you take the office. Don’t answer until we talk it over.”

  Next crisis…

  Ben thought fast as he moved to block Cope, currently coming out of Teke’s cabin. “Chief! A word, please. You and I have no children today. I delegate delinquent crew to the housekeeper and first mate. Not a problem for the captain and chief engineer. Understood?”

  The engineer cast an exasperated, anguished glance toward the galley. They could hear Nico’s steps ringing on the steel stairs at the far end of the hold. “Rego hell, Ben! He’s just a kid.”

  “Nico is now a crewman. Sock…”

  “Sock is here?!” Cope shrieked. “Ben, he’s a child!”

  Ben thrust an arm to the bulkhead to block his husband from running for the galley. “Misbehaving crew. Trust Jules.” They shared a house and parenting with Jules since before Sock was born. At 15, she made housekeeping on Thrive look like child’s play. She grew only more indomitable with maturity.

  Cope swallowed, and tried to nod.

  But then Nico ran to them, near tears. “Dad! I’m so sorry! Sock is here? I didn’t –”

  “STOP!” Ben pulled on his sternest captain’s face. He shifted his blocking arm to ward off the teen onslaught, palm out. “Crewman. You will address the chief engineer as ‘chief,’ not Dad. My name is ‘
captain.’ Report to the galley, Mr…dammit!” He winced. The captain was the sole Mr. Acosta on this vessel, and the chief engineer Mr. Copeland. “Mr. Nico. Do not interrupt senior officers at a critical juncture. Beat it!”

  Horrified, Nico backed away and out of sight, around the corner to the galley.

  Ben blew out to calm his nerves. “Cabin, chief. After you.”

  Cope stood like stone for another moment, jaw working. Ben’s eyes narrowed, trying to remain steely. He honestly wondered if his husband would take a swing at him. Fortunately, Cope dropped his eyes first, and reversed into Teke’s cabin.

  “Are we having fun yet?” Teke inquired, humor dancing in his eyes.

  “Yours is here, too,” Cope growled at him. “Sock and Nico both.”

  “Good!” Teke asserted. “Creches on Mahina coddle kids too much.” As a Denali academic, his creche included survival training with the hunters, dodging monsters in the great outdoors. “Do them good to get their asses whupped by life a bit. Or Jules.” He grinned.

  Ben shot him a grateful smirk for adding that perspective. He squeezed Cope’s shoulder briefly, then pushed him ahead into the cramped cabin. There he sat and made the mandatory first call, to Sora on Denali, to tell his father two children were accounted for. Please confirm custody of the other three.

  Cope slumped forward through this necessary step, perched beside Ben on the bed, face in his hands. Denali lay on the opposite side of the primary from MO at the moment. Nathan Acosta couldn’t receive Ben’s message for hours. The poor high-strung dentist had ample time for a nervous breakdown, fearing the boys waylaid for nefarious purposes on Mahina Orbital. But there was nothing else Ben could do for him.

  He begged off the call with Sora as quickly as politeness allowed. Then he called Thrive. “Remi! We’re here. Just starting to sift through comms.”

  Forewarned, Remi sat riding the ansible in his office. “Thank God! I tell you the priority message. Shiva says she holds Sass and Clay hostage.”

  Ben blinked. “Back up. I thought you confirmed dead bodies. Still dead.”