Galaxia

by Kevin McLaughlin

  Mommy dropped down on the floor and buried her head in her arms. She was making a horrible sound like a shrill keen. He had never seen anything like this before in his life.

  He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, half to comfort her, and half to prod her back into her normal self. “Mom?”

  She was so upset, Jack felt like he should do something to help her feel better. But he also needed his Mommy to help him feel better… and she wasn’t here. Can’t you do something, Mommy? Can’t you help me?

  The keening stopped, replaced abruptly with a blank stare. He said “Mom?” again, but she responded with something that didn’t seem to be meant for him.

  “They said something was wrong with his brain.” Her voice sounded dead, with none of the warmth he was hoping to find. She stared off into space, not acknowledging his presence at all. “Why can’t they just give him a nanobot injection? Most of these things can be cured with an update patch…”

  Jack didn’t know what to say to that, and it didn’t seem like she was talking to him anyway. He kept staring at her for a little while, then decided she wasn’t going to help him. No one ever helps me. He rubbed the tears from his eyes, then turned around and stumbled half-blind to the staircase. There was only one thing he could do to feel safe again, and even if it didn’t really work, he still wanted it badly.

  Climbing the staircase felt like climbing a mountain. Jack had to grip the railing tight to pull himself up. He still couldn’t see properly because of the tears in his eyes, and little sobs kept escaping him when he tried to breathe. When he got through the door to his bedroom he ran straight to the bed, then rooted around in the box until he found the little medical band doll. The nice doctor said it would keep me safe, that the doll was my bodyguard…

  But if people could just come in and take Daddy away, then how was he safe?

  Chapter Five

  Jack hadn’t been to school in several days, but he hadn’t spent much time playing or even watching the holobox, either. Everything in the house felt weird and scary, especially because his mother was saying things that didn’t make sense. She had told his teacher there was something contagious going around and that Daddy was in the hospital because of it. If that was true, they would have taken him and Mommy too. Was his mother lying?

  She talked with Dr. Jeong every single day, and sometimes, when she seemed really nervous, she called him more than once a day. He always said the same thing no matter how many times she called: “Call again tomorrow and we’ll have more information.” They never did.

  Every time the doctor said that, Mommy got upset again. She would cry for a little while sitting on the couch, then she would just stare at the wall for a while like she’d done the first day. Jack tried to stay away from her as much as he could because it was so upsetting to see her like this.

  Right now he was outside in the yard because the weather update told him the radiation levels were low enough to be safe, and it was a good way to get out of the house for a little bit. He wasn’t playing, just lying down and looking up at the clouds. He was almost as anxious as Mommy was but staring at nothing didn’t seem to help. He had no idea what would.

  As Jack watched, a Loon Network balloon array floated lazily across the sky. Jack didn’t know exactly how it worked, but he did know that the balloons had computers in them and that they could talk to each other. That’s how most people stayed connected: anyone with an antenna could get on the network for free and look up anything they wanted.

  Mommy and Daddy used a newer system called e-DNA, but that was only because they both worked for the Federation. If you didn’t work for the military or the government, you couldn’t use it. He liked the Loon Network better anyway. It was fun to look at the shapes the balloons made when they drifted over. Pushed along by the wind, they clustered into forms he could recognize. One would look like a clown and another like an elephant, while others would drift into triangles or rectangles.

  He was feeling sleepy. Watching the balloons must have calmed him down. Feeling somewhat better, Jack got up and wandered inside. If I can find Mommy, maybe she’ll make me something to eat.

  He heard a sound from the kitchen like a glass pan clinking on a surface. To Jack’s surprise, Mommy was already making some food. She turned and smiled at him when he came in, although the smile still looked sad to him. “I made lasagna!”

  He grinned. Lasagna was his favorite, with slices of zucchini and chunks of broccoli. It seemed like a good sign that Mommy was cooking, and making his favorite dinner at that.

  “Why don’t you sit over here and talk with me while I serve dinner,” she instructed. He pulled a chair up to the kitchen island but winced at the memory of the same chair falling over.

  His mother gave him a concerned look. “It’s okay, darling. Your father and I work for the Federation, and the Federation put an end to the bad old days when companies could mistreat workers.”

  He wasn’t quite sure why she’d said this, but he ventured a guess. “So, Daddy’s work… they won’t hurt him?”

  “Oh no, darling. Definitely not. It’s simply out of the question.”

  She took out the lasagna and put it on the counter, then cut him a big square and put it in a bowl for him. “Here you go. There’s a… possibility that whatever is going on with your father is some kind of workplace injury. The people at the Department of Material Science do wonderful work, but perhaps he was exposed to something that wasn’t good for him. Whatever it is, we can trust the Federation to make it right.”

  Her hand was shaking a little as she cut her own slice. It made a mess, and she didn’t end up scooping any of the lasagna into a bowl for herself. Instead, she sighed and put the knife down in the lasagna dish. “I love working for the Federation. We both do. Whatever is going on with Paul… going on with your father, it must be in the best interest of the whole galaxy.”

  Jack ate his lasagna, but what Mommy was saying still didn’t make sense to him. She trusted her work, and she went right on trusting them even when they did bad things, like stealing Daddy. In his own experience, you just couldn’t trust other people to do what you needed or be nice to you. They wanted to hurt you for no reason, like Mahmoud, or they acted nice but blamed you for things you didn’t do, like Mrs. Lane-Roc. Most of the time they just ignored you, and they only ever cared about their own selves. Didn’t Mommy know this?

  He had finished his lasagna. His mother smiled, and her smile looked sad and hopeful at the same time. “Go on and get washed up, dear. I spoke with Dr. Jeong, and he said we can go in and visit Daddy.”

  +++

  An hour later, they were sitting in a waiting room at the Fleet Hospital, waiting for Dr. Jeong to come out and talk to them. They were in a special wing behind locked doors that buzzed when they let you in. There were doctors in lab coats, but there were also soldiers from Fleet Security. When Jack saw them, he almost jumped up and ran out the door. These were the same people who had taken Daddy. Would they take him too, or would they take Mommy and leave him alone?

  They didn’t even look at him, but just kept staring straight ahead at nothing. He ignored them too. It was probably safer if they didn’t notice him. There was nothing to do here, no toys or books, and Jack wondered if Daddy was bored. Being bored made his father irritated, and he giggled at the image of Daddy getting mad at the doctors. If he got them in trouble, would they go to time out or what would they do?

  Then again, it kind of seemed like his father was the one in time out. Was that what jail was, a long time-out for naughty grown-ups?

  Dr. Jeong came out and went straight to his mother. “Mrs. Klingerman?”

  She frowned at him. “Flight Sergeant Klingerman.”

  “Yes… yes, of course. I’m sorry, Flight Sergeant. I have nothing but respect for all the training you pilots go through, and for all the work you do in keeping the colonies… linked to civilization here on T3.”

  His anxious response seemed to provoke her.
/>
  “I see,” she replied. “Even us fighter jocks make a valuable contribution, if not quite as important as what you scientists get up to?”

  “That’s not what I…”

  “Never mind. I want to know how my husband is doing.”

  Dr. Jeong sighed. “Paul has an unusual brain structure, a neurological mutation.”

  Her hand shot up to her mouth, and she replied in a strangled voice, “A mutation?”

  “Please, Flight Sergeant, it’s not as bad as it sounds. As you’re aware, neuroplasticity declines with age. Some of the branches of the neural system die off as a person ages, to make the brain more efficient and focused.”

  She waved for him to continue. “Yes…”

  “That’s not the case with your husband. His neurons have retained their youthful web-like structure, which is why Paul Klingerman can be so… brilliant. Unfortunately, it’s also what causes his brain to get overwhelmed. When your husband is swamped with excess information, he becomes overstimulated. And he becomes enraged. He can try to control it, but it’s physically impossible for him to keep it from happening.”

  “Oh, my poor Paul. My poor dear. What are you doing for him? Can he come home?”

  The doctor looked mournful. “I’m afraid not. He’ll have to remain here for further testing and treatment.”

  “But why, doctor? Can’t you treat him with nanobots?”

  “We’ve already tried. Nanobot technology is not yet advanced enough for a condition like his. Paul’s case is unique, and we’ll have to study him to learn how to help his situation.”

  “An outpatient treatment…”

  The doctor shook his head. “If only we could. We can’t possibly let him out into the general population, certainly not unsupervised. I don’t think you realize how serious the situation is. If we cleared him to go, he would most certainly face criminal charges for his assault on Ander Biskarret and would probably have to spend some time in a Rehabilitation Facility. The only thing preventing that right now is the fact that he didn’t act of his own volition, but under the influence of a neurological condition he cannot control. If we let him out without effective treatment, he would probably end up k…”

  “Doctor! My son is here.”

  Dr. Jeong glanced over at Jack guiltily. “Oh yes. My apologies. One thing I would like to emphasize is that he’s no less capable than other people. In many respects, he’s far more capable. From the perspective of evolution, a mutation like this could well be a benefit. It’s just that our society is not yet equipped to handle it. But your husband can still make a contribution, an important contribution.”

  Jack’s mother brightened up a little. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it’s important to him.”

  “Would you like to go in and see him now? It’s probably better, at least for now, if you go in one at a time. That way he won’t become… overstimulated.”

  Jack’s mother turned and put a stiff hand on her son's shoulder for a moment. “Jack darling, I’m going in to see Daddy now. You can see him after me, but I need you to wait out here for just a minute. Will that be okay?”

  Jack nodded, but he didn’t say anything. He felt like he couldn’t, like his throat was too tight to let the words out. She had said it would only be a minute, but as she went through the door with Dr. Jeong, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going away from him forever.

  +++

  On the flight home in their personal car, Jack’s mother was talking as much to herself as she was to him. He just stared out the viewscreen, watching the world as it sped by beneath him. He didn’t want to think about what she was saying as she drove. Staring at nothing made it all feel far away.

  “Dr. Jeong was helpful.” Her voice was distant, like she had shut herself off somehow. “He explained it all while I was in with Daddy, the… important contribution your father can make. Daddy’s really doing something great for science, something great for the Federation. And you can too!”

  Fear stabbed through his chest. What is she talking about?

  He bit his lip. “I can?”

  “Yes, you can. You’re Daddy’s son, so there might be something special about your brain too. They want to test you!”

  No, no, no!

  Jack’s stomach hurt, a sour, painful, burning sensation. He gripped the seat hard, digging in with his fingers. “They want to test me? What do you mean? Are they coming to take me away from the house?”

  “Of course not, darling.” She tried to sound like she knew this for sure, but she didn’t sound certain at all. Jack felt like he could throw up in the car, but Mommy didn’t seem to notice. She just kept talking. “I don’t know much about the details, but it’s a wonderful opportunity for you. A wonderful opportunity!”

  Angry thoughts flashed through his mind. Mommy’s helping them! She wants to get rid of me… but that couldn’t be true, could it? He couldn’t look at her right now. He turned back toward the window and watched the lights of the city flash by below them.

  His mother kept going, “I’m sure we’ll be alright, darling. It’s the Federation. I’m sure we’ll all… we’ll all be alright.”

  Chapter Six

  Diane Klingerman glanced around the flight deck, taking in the familiar chaos of Fleet Base Ares: fighter planes soaring off or gliding in, men and women running up and attaching fuel lines, engineers pulling panels and examining circuitry. She closed her eyes, letting the monstrous white noise roar of the deck wash over her, all the hissing and clanging and whirring of a hundred machines, everything from hydraulic pumps to ventilation systems, punctuated repeatedly by the shriek of the fighter plane engines as they took to the skies. She took a breath, savoring the harsh scents of fuel and metal.

  She was back at work, and she could already feel it helping. The fear was lighter now, losing its grip on her mind and her body. When she sat in the cockpit and took off in her Spitfire, she would feel like herself again. She’d forget — for a while.

  She opened her eyes, turned to the red door of the hangar in front of her, and read the sign: Squadron 7 Red Flight Command and Control. She looked straight ahead of her and the door buzzed, while an automated voice said, “Flight Sergeant Klingerman.” She marched down the hallway, conscious as always of her military bearing. The pilots who waited for her in the briefing room were not so formal. Like most other fighter jocks, they saw themselves as too elite for discipline. When she walked through the door, they did make some attempt to snap to attention, but they’d been lounging around, and their version of the salute was still too casual to really please her.

  As the Flight Sergeant, Diane was responsible for giving the briefing. She frowned sternly at the members of her squad, letting them know without words that she expected a more serious attitude from them next time. She didn’t want to show it, but the truth was that she felt grateful to be back here at last. She loved her family, but never quite clicked with them — or with anyone else. She tolerated dealing with people so she could get back where she belonged, hurtling through space at the controls of a Spitfire. Even this briefing was just a means to that end. When it looked like everyone had taken note of her disapproval, she let them off the hook a little. “At ease, everyone. It’s good to see you all.”

  One of the men called out to her, his voice as loud and friendly as if they were meeting at a bar. “Welcome back, Sarge!” He was known as Dowser.

  She winced a little in response, not knowing how to respond in kind. She never hung out with the squad off-duty and didn’t even know if she’d be welcome to do so. Even with her fellow pilots, social interactions were never easy. She didn’t share their often crude sense of humor, nor was she part of their easy camaraderie, but they were always respectful, and that was all she could ask of them.

  She made her voice as crisp as possible, shutting down any uncomfortable familiarity. “Here’s the mission. FFS Poseidon, a Class IV Cruiser, is in the system to return a diplomat. They won’t be hanging around, they’r
e off to some other system as soon as they’re done here. We’re flying as escorts to make sure the diplomat’s vehicle gets to the surface safely.”

  The squad looked mildly disappointed. One of the women crossed her arms in front of her chest, looked Diane directly in the eyes, and said, “A milk run.” There was a murmur of agreement.

  Diane shook her head. “We can’t assume that, Bug. Never say milk run till the mission’s over.”

  Bug bit her lip. “I know, I know. Deliver the milk first.”

  Diane went on, “I’ll be the flight leader, and Bug will be my wingman. Dowser, I want you as element leader with Hee-Haw as your wingman. Scooter, you hold back a bit and keep an eye on everything. Everyone got it?”

  “Way ahead of you, sarge,” Bug confirmed. “That’s how we figured you’d call it.” One reason they respected Diane despite her awkwardness is that she had never been known to make a reckless decision. Her orders made sense and kept them safe. That mattered more than anything else.

  Diane nodded crisply, confident that her crew would do what she needed. “Then let’s get up there.”

  They left the hangar and filed out to their Spitfires, sleek and raptor-like space planes that bore no resemblance at all to their historical namesakes. Her own fighter was marked CIRCUS, in reference to a paper she had written about the Red Baron back at the Academy.

  Her callsign irked her. It was a reference to a German fighter ace on a plane named after a legendary British aircraft at a time when the two nations were rivals. It seemed illogical, and illogical things were irritating.

  Still, there was no sense complaining about it or the other pilots would only give her a worse one. And it could get a lot worse. The freckled redhead with the prominent front teeth was known as Hee-Haw. Dowser had his call-sign because of his ability to find hidden liquor, usually liquor belonging to other squadrons, occasionally liquor belonging to officers. As for Bug, her call-sign referred to a childhood anecdote involving the stomach flu. Whatever your fellow pilots noticed about you first, that was your callsign, until and unless they were more impressed by something else.