The Ferrymen (The Culling Book 3)

by Ramona Finn

  “We did it,” Kupier whispered from where he lay next to me. “We did it.”

  I lifted my tech, and my arm only half way listened. I focused my eyes on the computer implanted in my arm. And beyond it was the Earth, blue and green and beckoning me.

  It was my ancestral home, yes. But this? Outer space, the cobbled together Ray, the ten to eighteen inches next to Kupier? This was my real home.

  I took a deep breath and let my head fall back. Experimenting, I commanded my tech to turn off for a while. It complied, having no master but me anymore.

  There was silence in my head as the Ray plummeted through space, away from Earth, but also toward our freedom.

  My eyes fluttered open when something cool was pressed into my hand. I knew, without even having to look, what it was. Kupier had pressed Dahn’s horse into my palm.

  I could almost feel the Earthen wind whipping through the horse’s mane.

  “We’re free, Glade,” Kupier whispered in my ear. “We’re free.”

  Epilogue

  Three Years Later

  I can’t believe you’re watching it!” I crowed as I swung awkwardly into the kitchen of the small ship that Kupier and I had come to call home over the last few years.

  He automatically reached up and helped me off the last step.

  I’d recovered fairly well, considering the massive brain injury I’d given myself when I’d destroyed the Database. But I would never be the way I used to be. My arms and legs had limited mobility, and there were times when my thoughts and memories got so jumbled, it was all I could do not to scream. That was when Kupier knew it was time to give me some sort of puzzle to solve. Whether it was fixing the autopilot on the Beam, our ship, or solving a puzzle created for me by our ship’s computer, it never failed to soothe me.

  Ironically, the thing that helped me the most these days was my integrated tech. It was tame, fully controllable by me, and helped my brain and body communicate. I wasn’t sure I would have recovered at all if it hadn’t been for that.

  “I was curious!” Kupier insisted, pulling me onto his lap. “Besides, he’s pretty much the reason we have the coolest job in the galaxy.”

  I couldn’t argue with that as I watched the televised broadcast of Dahn Enceladus being inducted into the Authority. He’d been apprenticing with Kalis Rome since the day we’d hand-delivered his ass to Earth.

  It hadn’t been a shoo-in, however. This time, they’d held elections for the spot. And Dahn had run on two issues, opening Earth up for visitors and eventually full-time residents on a lottery basis. And, deep space exploration.

  The sad truth was that Earth would never be able to support a population of our size again. And as we weren’t attempting to winnow down the population anymore, we had to find a more sustainable place to live rather than just relying on the colonies.

  Haven had been right about a few things. The colonies were much too far apart from one another to be safely governed by a weak government. They needed a strong hand. Which was why the Authority had started handing over control to the local governments, building them up little by little.

  After I blew the Database, most Datapoints were injured, or their tech was blown completely, depending on how deeply integrated into the Database they’d become. It had also blown out almost all the systems on the Station. As they rebuilt the Station, the Authority also repurposed it. It was still in transition, but eventually, it would serve as a temporary shelter for any citizens seeking asylum, or who could no longer afford to live on their home colonies. Which was quickly becoming the case on some colonies as, of course, not all local governments had been created equally, and some politicians were already showing their greedy colors. But, as Kupier liked to remind me, that’s life. And that’s human. We can’t erase error by tightening our government’s grip on us. The system will always be imperfect.

  I watched for another moment while Dahn, so serious and handsome, signed the documents that the Authority members held out for him. Just as he raised his hand to say the oath, the broadcast cut out.

  Well, that was also life when you were on the farthest known edges of the solar system, the way Kupier and I were.

  After I’d healed as much as I was going to, we’d figured enough time had passed that we should start petitioning the Authority for some understanding of our position as Ferrymen.

  For a year after the Database blew, we were still considered a rebel organization. It took a lot of parlaying to finally convince the remaining members of the Authority that it was Haven who we’d really had a problem with, and his system of culling. And, most importantly, that we meant no harm to the citizens.

  Strangely enough, it had been Dahn who’d ultimately done the convincing, persuading them that it was a waste of Authority resources to keep chasing us. He’d also come up with the idea that perhaps the Ferrymen should be employed with the deep space exploration part of his campaign promises. He’d designed the program that sent us out here, to the deep, cold, quiet of our solar system, bent on making discoveries and seeing everything our solar system had to offer.

  We’d been gone for nearly two years now, and were finally, finally heading back to Charon. We had families to see, after all.

  But it would be strange, I knew, to interact with people who weren’t Kupier. To see my sisters, as grown as I was the first time I’d met Kupier.

  We’d see the Ray. Board her again. We’d walk the corridors, and there would be no Aine. The pain of the loss of her was still bright and terrible, the edges left behind by her sacrifice still jagged and raw.

  I wished, every day, that I’d had a chance to say goodbye to her. I wished I could thank her. Tell her exactly how much I respected her. How she would always be remembered and revered amongst the Ferrymen.

  “You thinking about her again?” Kupier asked me as his arms tightened around my waist.

  “Yes,” I responded, plucking his marble from his hand and rolling it over my palm. “Just wondering what she would have thought of Dahn being named a member of the Authority.”

  Kupier tipped his head back. “She would have been glad that at least one of them was a known entity. She trusted known entities. Even if she didn’t like them or agree with them, she trusted them.”

  I nodded and was quiet.

  “I think we should name that dwarf planet after her,” Kupier said. ‘The one we charted a few weeks ago.”

  I looked up at him, a question in my eyes.

  He shrugged. “In a weird way, it kind of reminded me of her. You know, a loner, all on the outskirts, surrounded by prickly debris, but really incredible once you saw through all the crap.”

  I laughed, knowing that the description was perfect. “Alright.”

  He hugged me tight and tilted my head toward his for a kiss. “Just a few more months of this. You and me alone. I’m gonna miss it.”

  “Come on. You’ve gotta be sick of me by now.” “Nope. You’re my logical half.”

  “And you’re my emotional half, you big softie.”

  He kissed me again. “Alright. I better get up and actually pilot this thing if we want to get home sometime within the next year.”

  I followed him into the cockpit and strapped into the co-pilot side. Together, we watched as the stars raced past, as asteroids approached and receded, as the pinprick of the sun grew infinitesimally bigger.

  Somewhere in front of us was our home. If it was Earth, so be it. If it was Charon, so be it. It almost didn’t matter to me anymore.

  It didn’t matter because all I knew was that I was traveling in the right direction.

  End of The Ferrymen

  THE CULLING BOOK THREE

  Keep reading for an exclusive extract from Ramona's best-selling dystopian series The Glitches Series.

  Thank You!

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  Also By Ramona Finn

  The Glitches Series

  BLURB

  On the brink of extinction, being human means more than just surviving.

  In Lib’s world, it’s dangerous to deviate from the norm. In fact, for someone who doesn’t live up to the Artificial Intelligence’s standards, it’s practically a death sentence. Lib learns this the hard way when she wakes up in a barren wasteland, with her memories erased, and only one thought lodged in her mind: “It’s all my fault.”

  Lib is a Glitch—an imperfect human component of the utopian world called the Norm. Now she’s thrown out, Lib will be forced to team up with another Glitch, Raj, and the mysterious Rogue Wolf and his clan to survive. Wolf only cares about the survival of his group, but Raj thinks they can hack the A.I. and change the Norm for the better.

  Now, Lib will have to decide which path to choose—whether to go with striking loner Raj or stay with Wolf and his tight-knit group. Her heart is drawn to both, but she’s carrying a deadly secret that could jeopardize them all. Will she be able to save her newfound family and stop the A.I. before it’s too late?

  Get your copy of The Glitch

  from www.RamonaFinn.com.

  SNEAK PEEK

  A screech tears through the air and wakes me. The sound echoes and feels almost an echo of the noise in my head. Someone is screaming.

  Scrambling to my feet sets my head spinning. I stagger on shaky legs. My stomach gives a heave, and I almost fall to the cracked ground. I want to laugh—I’m as cracked as the ground. I stagger and then walk. Then I run. I don’t know where I’m going except toward that scream—toward the other voice. The world around me seems wrong—it’s all bright and brown. To one side of me, a wall towers into the sky, impossibly tall, dull and gray, leaving me wanting to beat on it with my fists. The screaming is getting louder. I’m close.

  The need to get there fast beats in me, pumping blood and burning in my lungs. Rocks trip my bare feet, cutting sharp and hot, leaving me limping, skipping. Ignore it—the words come easy to mind, but I’m stumbling like I haven’t used my legs in a long, long time. But something else pops up as well—it’s all my fault.

  I don’t know why those thoughts come to me. But I do know I’ve reached the sound of whoever else is in trouble. In front of me is a building—but what is that really? It is round—a semi-circle, with one end open and a railing and what looks like a wide-viewing screen. The flashing green of the lights seems out of place in this dry world.

  Just like me.

  The thought leaves my head aching, but I have no time for that. The building has a metal platform. A girl is slumped there. Her screams have gone to whimpers now. She looks younger than me, small and fragile. She has one hand on the railing in front of her. The lights glow and sparks jump out, so white they dazzle. The air stinks as if something is burning. I fear the something is the girl’s skin on the hand that seems stuck to the metal railing.

  Moving forward, I put my hands next to the girl’s on the railing. I’m moving on instinct, not thought. I don’t know why, but words leap into my head without my asking—motherboard… electronic connection…access to mainframe AI. My stomach gives another sickening lurch. I’m shaking all over. I know what to do—and I don’t know why I know this.

  I plant one hand on the railing next to the girl’s.

  Connection: Secure.

  Tiny pinpricks jab my palm. A dozen of them. Connections spark within me—I can feel the power slip over my skin and into my mind. With a blink, everything in the dry, brown world around me is no longer anything I can see. Instead, I’m not standing inside a room, dark and blue that is soothing in a way the other dry, dusty place was not. Next to me, the girl stands, her image wavering—and I know we are here in this other place, but we are not really here.

  This is the artificial world—it is a construct I see with my mind. But the question comes up—how do I know this? A certainty swells in my chest. I do know this place—it is where I am from. But…that makes no sense to me. How can I be from an artificial world—a computer construct?

  Glancing around me, I search for answers—and for a way to save this girl.

  A round, black machine sits on her back. Its black arms and legs make it look like it is meant to simulate looking like a small person. But it has no face. No skin. Firewall. The word pops into my head.

  Reaching out, I ghost a touch over the plate on the firewall’s chest. Power tingles on my fingertips, but I don’t know if that is coming from me or the firewall. I do know it is attacking the girl—it is a security measure and the girl triggered it. But I don’t like that it’s hurting her.

  I find a button and press it—something clicks and code appears, scrolling over the black surface of the firewall’s body. A thousand tiny messages appear in binary—ones and zeros. It’s clumsy code. Why do I know that? Unease shivers through me, but in the other world—the dry and dusty one—I can still hear the girl’s whimpers. Turning to the firewall, I pick out the lines of code that will end this. With a touch, the lines are wiped out.

  We can go now, so I put a hand on the girl’s wrists and think those words to her.

  The world snaps and breaks. For an instant, everything seems to be blackness. The soothing room of blue and cool vanishes—but then I stand again on the metal platform. I no longer hold the railing, but the girl is with me. She is no longer screaming. She glances at me, parts her lips as if to say something, but then slumps down to sprawl on the platform.

  Nonfunctional.

  Unconscious.

  The two words leave me frowning—which is it? I changed the code to make the firewall nonfunctional. Did that in turn leave the girl unconscious—nonfunctional?

  It’s all my fault.

  Is it my fault this girl is hurt? I don’t know.

  Frowning, I rub at the ache deep in the center of my chest. That’s new. I don’t know if it’s good or not. I also don’t know how I got out here in this dry and brown world. Glancing around, it seems to me that even the sky is a pale color—almost blue but not quite. It is so different from the cool, blue room—the artificial place—that it frightens me. I want to go back, but if I do will the firewalls attack me?

  Reaching up, I put cold fingers to my cheeks. They are wet and I don’t know why, but the wetness is leaking from my eyes. My throat now seems too tight, too dry. What happened to me that I am in the big, open, frightening place?

  Maybe the girl will know.

  Squatting down next to her, I touch her arm and shake her shoulder. She moves but only when I push her.

  “Why can’t I remember?” The words come out rough and my voice sounds as if I have not used in a long time. The girl doesn’t answer.

  Sitting down next to her, I decide she is longer than I am. Taller—that’s the word. But her face is darker than mine. My skin shows pale white and angry red, as if it has been burned. Her skin is not as smooth as mine. Tiny golden hairs cover her arms. Those hairs match the bright ones on her head, but that hair is pulled up and back and I don’t know why. I lean closer. Do I know her? Her face seems angled and sharp. Her eyes are closed but the lashes look feathery soft. I sit back and tug my hair around so I can see it.

  Dark, dark brown and thick. It is much shorter than that of the nonfunctional girl.

  And that is because…?

  No answer swims up to me from within my mind. Closing my hands into fists, I stare down at them. Did someone wipe my code clean? But…no. I am a person not a firewall—not a machine within an artificial construct. I should have memories—I know this. I pound one fist into metal and that leaves my hand sore. That’s a good thing—that means this world is real.

  It’s all my fault.

  With a frustrated growl, I sit back on my heels unti
l my back rests against the metal wall. A rock presses into my butt. I’m tired. I want to close my eyes and wake remembering. I want the girl to wake because maybe she can tell me something. I hope she can.

  “Who are you?” The words come out of my mouth mumbled. I have to wet my lips and try again. “Who am I?”

  Glitch.

  The word appears in my head like someone said it. I glance around us. There is no one here but the nonfunctional girl and me. It seems I’m not very functional either—which leaves me dysfunctional. I almost let out a laugh, but I don’t know why that word is funny.

  Lifting a hand, I open and close my fingers. I let out a breath. I know I’m alive. And in a barren world that seems to be empty except for the girl with me, this platform—which is no longer glowing or sparking—and the wall and the sun burning over us.

  I am a glitch? That word feels wrong—the firewall was glitching wasn’t it when it attacked the girl. Firewalls should guard—they’re not supposed to attack those who enter. Just as I knew how to shut down the firewall and free the girl from its hold, I know this. And I don’t know why I do. The knowledge sits in my stomach like I’ve swallowed a rock.

  I must find the Glitches.

  The thought is like the other fragments lying around in my head—out of order, lost in mist, and has no contest for why I must do this. But it’s something.

  Find the Glitches.

  I don’t know what it means. Glancing around, I want to be back in the cool room. I touch the railing. Nothing happens. It seems to have become even more nonfunctional than the girl. I let out a whoosh of air. If I can get one tiny piece of myself back, I should be able to get more. Right now have no thought for what is my name, or how I know about the artificial world but I seem to know nothing about this…this outside world.