Sons of the Starfarers: Omnibus I-III

by Joe Vasicek

  Now they were dragging her away. To where, she didn’t know. When she opened her eyes, all she saw was a blinding white blur. She didn’t have the strength to resist, so she let them take her, grateful that at least the convulsions had stopped.

  Now water was streaming down on her—lukewarm, neither hot nor cold. Like the steam, it healed her, invigorated her. She was alone now, leaning against a wall that felt metallic and slippery. She reached out to touch it, and the firmness surprised her.

  That was when she saw her hands. Intricate henna tattoos covered her brown skin, stretching from the tips of her fingers all the way up her arms. The sight surprised her, until she remembered how her sister-in-law had painted her, just before she’d stepped into the cryotank. The tattoos were beautiful and elegant, nothing less than a true masterpiece. They stretched across her face and chest, enveloping her whole body just as the water did with its healing warmth. There was power in those beautiful designs—power that calmed and strengthened her.

  Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself against the wall and tried to stand. For several excruciating moments, her legs were utterly unresponsive. Biting back the panic, she rested for a moment, breathing calmly as the water soothed her stiff, unyielding muscles. Gradually, her legs took strength. A wave of sudden dizziness threatened to keel her over, but leaning against the wall she stood up slowly, quivering as the water ran across her henna-painted skin.

  I’m alive, she thought. I’m actually alive. The realization was so sweet, it made her laugh. She had been frozen in a deathlike sleep, and now she was fully alive once again. Nothing could be sweeter.

  But then, a sickening feeling grew in her gut as she realized what that meant. She was alive, but what about everyone else? Her father, her brothers, her sister-in-law—none of them had been frozen in cryo. She was the only one. For a very brief moment, she hoped against hope that she was home—that her father had woken her just a few weeks or months after putting her down. But then she looked around at the shower chamber, with its too-bright lights and pale metal walls, and she realized with dismay that that wasn’t the case.

  Her strength gave way, and she collapsed to her knees. Her family and friends—were they dead? Had any of them survived? Or was she … alone?

  I have to stay together, she told herself, refusing to give way to her tears. There will be time for that later, but first, I have to find out where I am.

  Or perhaps more importantly, who had thawed her.

  * * * * *

  The shower didn’t last long. It ended abruptly, and hot air blasted her dry from above. By then, though, she had regained most of her strength. She may have been helpless when the hands had carried her in, but she would walk out of the shower chamber strong and whole.

  It was all coming back to her now—the events that had brought her to this place. The famine at Anuva Station, the long fearful months as the crisis became a catastrophe, and her father’s secret project to save her.

  “You are my youngest child,” he’d told her. “You have a greater chance of surviving the cryofreeze than any of your siblings.” As usual, his obsession with efficiency as the station’s chief engineer came before his emotions. But when she’d looked into his eyes and saw the sadness there, she had known that he did this because he loved her.

  “What will it feel like?” she asked. Even if going into cryostasis was the only way to survive, the thought of it terrified her.

  “The thawing and freezing process will put quite a strain on your body, but while you’re in cryofreeze, you won’t feel a thing. Years could pass—centuries even—and you wouldn’t know it until you wake up.”

  She stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Centuries?”

  “Yes. There’s no telling when the next ship will come, or what they’ll find when they get here. But there is an upper limit to the timeframe for revival. In eight hundred standard years, Anuva Station’s correctional jets will fail. Orbital decay will crash it into the surface anywhere from one to three hundred years later.”

  His brutally efficient analysis had never given her much comfort, but at least she knew that he wasn’t hiding anything from her. He’d never hidden anything from her, not even the hardest truths.

  “So if I do wake up, at least I’ll know that it hasn’t been more than a thousand years?”

  “Eleven-hundred to be more accurate, but even then, it’s impossible to predict how long it will take them to thaw you after they discover you. I don’t have the resources to build the proper thawing equipment. I can only put you under the ice and hope that whoever finds you has the equipment to do the rest.”

  “So when I do wake up, it won’t be here?” Her heart sank as she realized what that meant.

  “No. You could be anywhere in settled space. But at least you’ll be alive.”

  I’m alive, Reva thought to herself as the drying cycle ended and the warm air cut off. She looked down at the intricate henna tattoos painted across her skin and took courage. She had no idea when or where she was, but at least she was alive.

  The shower door opened and she stepped out, holding weakly onto the wall for support. The room outside was narrow and windowless, with walls and floors that were immaculately white. There were a number of gray stalls lining the wall to her right, with a wide sink facility in the far corner.

  Two men stood by the entrance to the shower. Their bodies were covered in blankets, leaving only their hands and faces bare. It puzzled her, since the air in the room was not particularly cool.

  “Uh, hello,” she said. She wasn’t sure what else to say, so she smiled and waited for them to respond.

  Neither of them spoke to her, but the younger one handed her a towel. She took it gratefully and wrapped it around her hair. From the puzzled looks on the young man’s face, she gathered that wasn’t what he had expected of her. She looked at him closer and realized that he wasn’t covered in blankets at all, but some sort of skin covering that was fitted to his body. The same was true of the older man. His second skin was long and white, a bit like one of her father’s aprons.

  Back home, no one had covered their bodies unless an unusual circumstance required it. Her father would sometimes wear protective gear while at work, but when he was home in the apartment, he went bare just like everyone else. She’d always been taught that the body was sacred, the highest pinnacle of creation. Just as children were born pure and shameless, so too were they to honor their bodies and not be ashamed of them. But these men—with their blanket-like skin coverings that served no obvious purpose—seemed to believe otherwise.

  “Hello,” she said, holding her hands palm-outward in greeting. “Thank you for rescuing me. My name is Reva Starchild.” Back home, the standard greeting was to take one by the hands and kiss them on either cheek. These men, though, only smiled stiffly and nodded at her.

  The younger man was clearly uncomfortable, though the older man seemed unconcerned. He stepped forward and pulled out what appeared to be some sort of medical instrument.

  “Are you a doctor?” she asked. He said nothing, but began to examine her.

  He held the instrument in front of her eyes, poked it into her ears, and motioned for her to stick out her tongue so he could examine her mouth. He then pressed the instrument gingerly against her chest, checking her in three different places. She stood patiently, allowing him to examine her. His touch was gentle enough that it didn’t feel invasive.

  Who are these people? she wondered. Clearly, the older man was a doctor, which meant that the younger was probably his apprentice. The room itself seemed like a bathroom in a medical facility, though not at all like the one at home. But that was what her father had told her, wasn’t it? That when she awoke, she’d be far away from everything she knew?

  “Hello,” she said again. “My name is Reva. Can you understand me?”

  From the stupid way the young apprentice smiled at her, it was clear that the answer was “no.” As if to confirm this, the doctor spoke to
him in a language she’d never heard before. His words sounded so foreign that she couldn’t make any sense of them.

  So I am far from home.

  The doctor took her by the arm and gently led her through a tall doorway. They walked down a short corridor to a boxy, windowless room with a screen on one wall and a series of modular compartments in the other. He pulled out a retractable table and motioned for her to sit. As she did, a spiderlike medical bot descended from the ceiling and unfolded its spindly arms. She flinched, but the doctor snapped his fingers and it retreated into the far corner.

  The apprentice came in and pulled a piece of folded fabric from one of the wall compartments. He unfolded it and held it out to her, and she saw that it was a body covering like the ones they wore. She shook her head and waved it away, but he held it out insistently.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I don’t want it, thank you.”

  The doctor put a hand on his younger apprentice’s shoulder and gently rebuked him. He blushed again—the third time in about as many minutes—but folded up the covering and replaced it in the wall compartment.

  Reva’s stomach growled, and a sharp hunger pang nearly bowled her over. She leaned forward and clutched her stomach, wincing until it died down. After all of the vomiting and dry heaving, she was positively famished.

  “Do you have food?” she asked, half-expecting the men to understand her. When they didn’t, she rubbed her stomach and pointed at her mouth. The apprentice nodded vigorously and conferred for a few moments with the doctor before running out of the room.

  For the next several minutes, the doctor examined her more thoroughly. He tapped her knees to test her reflexes, put a band around her arm to take her blood pressure, took a tissue sample from her tongue, and mapped her teeth with a scanner. By the time the apprentice returned, the doctor had nearly performed a full physical on her.

  The apprentice handed her a fluid pack with a one-way straw sticking out of a corner. It was a type of food ration, designed to be eaten in zero gravity. She took it with a grateful smile, lifting the straw to her mouth. The contents were thick and slushy, with a synthetic, salty-sweet flavor that made it hard to put down. It seemed to expand as soon as it hit her stomach, satisfying her hunger almost at once. That alone made it worthwhile.

  As she sucked up the last of it, the doctor and his apprentice turned to face her. Apparently, they had been having something of a heated discussion while she’d been eating. She put the empty fluid pack down and returned their gazes, waiting to see their reaction.

  At that moment, two other men entered the room. They were both tall and muscular, much more so than either the doctor or his apprentice. Like the doctor, they also wore second-skins that covered almost their entire bodies. These ones were thicker, though—hard and black like beetle shells. They looked so silly that Reva couldn’t help but laugh. When the men looked at her, though, it was clear they didn’t find it funny.

  “Sorry,” she said, covering her mouth. “It’s just, you don’t …”

  The strong men ignored her, focusing instead on the doctor. As her voice trailed off, Reva noticed a frown of concern on the doctor’s face. The apprentice stood behind him and glanced from her to the strong men and back. Reva tensed—something was clearly wrong here.

  The apprentice took out the covering again and held it out to her, this time all but pleading for her to put it on. For a second, she considered doing it just to set him at ease, but that would mean covering her henna tattoos. She smiled and waved him away as politely as she could, ignoring the almost frantic look of concern on his face.

  The strong men finished with the doctor and walked over to her. One of them took her by the arm and pulled her forcibly to her feet.

  “Ow!” she said, trying in vain to free herself from his grip. “What are you doing?”

  She reached over to pull his wrist off, but the second strong man took her by the other arm, making it impossible for her to free herself. She struggled as best she could, dropping to the floor and refusing to stand.

  The strong man on her right reached over and slapped her across the cheek. The blow was so forceful it sent a wave of dizziness through her along with the pain. Fear seized her, and she stopped struggling. The men lifted her, and she stood on unsteady legs.

  She risked a sideways glance as they marched her out the door. The apprentice still held the body covering he’d offered her, a look of dread on his face. The doctor was clearly outraged, but he made no move to stop the strong men or to follow her. Wherever they were taking her, she was on her own.

  * * * * *

  Who are these people? Reva wondered as the strong men marched her down the narrow corridor. With her cheek still stinging and the two men gripping both her arms, she felt less like she’d been rescued and more like she’d been taken prisoner.

  The corridor opened up to a wider hallway, with portholes on one side. The stars were dim, and Reva saw no sign of any planet or space station. At twenty meter intervals along the wall, three circular emergency chutes took the place of the portholes. From her father’s engineering work, she knew that they led to the escape pods, which meant that she was on a starship. But judging from the length of the hallway, the ship must be huge—almost the size of Anuva Station, if not larger.

  They passed a handful of people along the way, all of them wearing second-skins. Most of them were men, and all of them stopped to stare at her. She thought it was the tattoos at first, but then she noticed that some of them were snickering. What was their problem? Had they never seen tattoos before? Or was it something else?

  They entered a cylindrical elevator chamber with grated floors that clawed at her bare feet. The air was much cooler than she was accustomed to, making her shiver. Even in the elevator, the strong men refused to release her.

  Where are they taking me?

  They marched her into an empty chamber with a desk and a computer terminal. The strong man on her right pulled out a keycard and held it against an access panel next to another set of doors, which opened to reveal a short, narrow corridor. Holding cells for prisoners lined either side. Reva could tell what they were from the heavy deadbolts built into each one. The doors were actually more like hatches, since they sat on hinges and were raised about half a meter above the floor. They each had a small porthole with bars over the front of them. An ozone scent in the air told her that they were electrified.

  So I am a prisoner.

  They marched her to the far side of the corridor, opening the very last holding cell. They shoved her in, but didn’t close the hatch. Instead, they stood out in the corridor, as if waiting for someone to join them.

  Who were these people, and how had they found her cryotank? Somehow, she didn’t imagine that a ship this large would ever travel as far as her home. The Anuva system had always been cut off from the rest of the universe; it was rare even for starfarers to visit them. So how had she ended up here, on a ship that was almost as large as Anuva Station? And more importantly, why were they treating her like a prisoner?

  As thoughts like this raced through her mind, heavy footsteps sounded outside on the grated floor. A man entered her cell, this one different from all the others. He was tall and balding, with sunken eyes and a hooked nose. The fabric of his second skin was crisp and white, and his expression was cold and impassive, his mouth downturned in a frown that seemed like a permanent fixture.

  The strong men stood by the hatch, clearly deferring to him as some sort of leader or administrator. He ducked through the hatchway as he entered, but once he was in, he regarded her coolly with eyes that seemed to penetrate right through her.

  “Hello?” she said, struggling to sound confident. “My name is Reva. Who are you, and what do you want with me?”

  He said nothing, but walked around her, taking in everything from her toes to the top of her head. At first, she thought he was admiring her tattoos, but from the glint in his eyes she wasn’t quite so sure.

  “I asked, wh
at do you want with me? Why are you treating me like this?”

  He spoke a single word, calling for silence. Even though she didn’t understand the language he spoke in, the meaning was clear from his tone. She took a deep breath and stood awkwardly as he finished circling her.

  Without warning, he reached out and pinched her breast. She gasped in surprise and knocked his hand away.

  “Hey! What the hell are you—”

  Stars flashed across her vision as he slapped her cheek with the back of his hand. The force of the blow nearly sent her to the floor, and the pain stretched across the whole side of her face. She rubbed her cheek as her shock turned to fear.

  The man reached out and felt her again. She tensed and tried weakly to push him away, but he took her firmly by the wrist, squeezing just hard enough to make it clear that struggling against him was a very bad idea.

  Stop! Please, stop!

  Tears filled her eyes at the invasiveness of his touch. As he reached down and groped her butt, she squeezed her legs together, praying that he wouldn’t go any further.

  Thankfully, he didn’t. As abruptly as he had taken her, he released her and walked casually toward the door. Reva wrapped her arms across her chest. The whole ordeal had lasted barely a few seconds, but it left her shuddering with fear. For someone to reach out and feel her like that, treating her body like an object, it made her feel sick—and profoundly violated.

  The three men stepped through the door and shut it behind them, leaving her alone. She leaned back against the cold metal wall and slid to her ankles, unsure whether to cry or to scream. Fear got the best of her, and she did neither.

  There could be no doubt anymore: she was a prisoner, and she had to escape.

  * * * * *

  Meditation always helped Reva to calm herself and focus on the problem at hand. She sat cross-legged on the cold metal floor with her hands folded palm-up in her lap. By shutting out everything around her and focusing on her breath, she was able to fight back against the panic and find a place of peace in her mind to serve as an anchor. Time became fluid and mutative, but it didn’t seem like long before her mind was clear and the confusion was gone.