The Orpheus Plot

by Christopher Swiedler

  Dedication

  For Jack, Andrew, Eleanor, and all of the future pioneers of their generation

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Christopher Swiedler

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  1

  IF YOU GET caught, I’m going to pretend I don’t know who you are.

  Lucas stared at the message scrolling across his wrist screen, shielding it with his hand to keep the light from being noticed. He dictated a quick response to his suit’s computer, keeping his voice low even though it was physically impossible for anyone else to hear him through the vacuum of space. This was your idea, remember?

  Tali’s response came quickly: Then do me a favor and don’t get caught.

  Lucas poked his head out from his hiding spot behind an empty fuel tank and looked around. The sun had set a little while ago and wouldn’t rise again for another nine hours. In the starlight, the surface of the asteroid was a dark, dusty gray, pockmarked with shadowy microcraters. Off to one side, the skeleton of a ten-person rover that the colony kids used as a play structure glinted silvery white. A small row of blue lamps on the wall ahead of him marked the retractable doors of the naval hangar. It was after midnight, colony time, and if anyone saw him out here they were going to have a lot of questions that Lucas wouldn’t want to answer. He needed his sister to stop sending him stupid messages and get down here to let him inside.

  Why was she taking so long? She’d been the one to message him. He couldn’t even remember the last time that had happened. Her schedule as a cadet on the teaching ship Orpheus meant they only got to see each other every few months. And even when she was here on Ceres at the same time as him, she was usually too busy studying or prepping for the upcoming term to spend much time with him. But then earlier today, out of the blue: I have a surprise for you. Meet me at the hangar at 0130. And then, a few seconds later: You’re going to like it.

  Lucas grinned. He could guess exactly what her “surprise” would be.

  He felt the low rumble of airlock pumps cycling, and after an agonizingly long wait, the hangar doors slid open wide enough for him to slip inside. He squinted in the sudden brightness of the overhead lights. Military transports, scouts, and cargo haulers were lined in neat rows, all polished to the traditional Navy shine. He ran his hands along the hull of a sleek courier ship. It wasn’t much more than a single-seat cockpit strapped to a pair of big engines. What would it be like to fly something like this?

  He found his adopted sister, Tali, leaning against a desk at the back of the hangar. She was wearing the red-and-white uniform of a naval cadet—the same uniform he’d imagined for himself so many times. A thick bundle of cables ran from a computer screen on the desk to the cockpit of an old patrol ship, where a hand-lettered sign read SIMULATOR TIME LIMITED TO THIRTY MINUTES WHILE OTHERS ARE WAITING.

  “Finally,” she said, yawning.

  “Finally, yourself,” he shot back. “I was waiting out there twenty minutes.”

  She shrugged. “My roommate wouldn’t fall asleep.”

  “So—any suggestions for a packing list?” he asked, abandoning the pretense that he didn’t know what her surprise was. He knew he should probably ask her how she was doing or engage in some other kind of small talk, but right now he didn’t have the patience.

  Two days ago, his news feed monitoring program had alerted him that an outbreak of measles—measles!—had forced a transport ship from Earth to turn back. A cross-reference of the passenger manifest had confirmed that a thirteen-year-old girl on board was scheduled to be enrolled on the Orpheus. Naval immunization rules meant that she would have to miss the upcoming term, which meant that there was suddenly an open spot with nobody to fill it.

  He’d sent in his own application on his thirteenth birthday, and he had nothing to show for it but radio silence. But now, with the recommendation of a senior cadet like Tali . . .

  “Packing list?” she asked, frowning.

  “I’ll get my own uniform, right? But I can’t find anything online about whether the Navy provides underwear. You’d think they’d be more clear about details like that.”

  “Wait,” Tali said slowly. “You think the surprise is that I’ve gotten you onto the Orpheus?”

  It was well done, he thought. She might have a second career as an actor if the Navy didn’t work out. “Stop kidding around. It’s not funny.”

  “Lucas, I’m not kidding. The surprise is that I got you time on the simulator. I thought it would be a fun thing to do before I shipped out.”

  He suddenly felt as if he’d been dropped into free fall. This was why she’d called him down here? So he could practice flying in a stupid video game?

  “Lucas, I’ve told you this over and over,” she said. “I can’t get you into the academy. It’s impossible.”

  “But there’s an empty spot—”

  “—which they’re not going to fill with a kid from the Belt.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense!” Lucas said. “You’re from the Belt!”

  Tali shook her head. “I was born on Mars. That’s totally different.”

  Totally different? She’d only been six years old when she’d moved here from Port Meridian on Mars. Not long after that, her parents had died, along with Lucas’s mother, in the Tannhauser pressure dome accident here on Ceres. Afterward, Lucas’s father had adopted her, and she’d lived with them for almost seven years. Most of her life had been spent in space. How was she any less of a Belter than he was?

  “You need to stop getting your hopes up,” she said. “The Navy has never accepted a Belter cadet. Do you think that’s an oversight? Or just bad luck?”

  Tali’s voice had that same I-know-what-I’m-talking-about tone that she’d used to lecture him with when they were growing up on their father’s mining ship. She liked to pretend that she was the expert on everything just because she was three years older than him. He’d forgotten how much he hated that tone in her voice.

  “Did you even try?” he said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. “Or were you just lying when you said you’d put in a recommendation for me?”

  “I tried,” she insisted. “Of course I tried. I talked to anyone who would listen. It was no use.”

  Was she telling the truth? Or was she just telling him that so he’d shut up and stop asking? Half of him suspected that was exactly what she’d done, while the other half hated himself for not trusting her.

  “I know it sounds like it would be great to go to the academy,” she said. “But it’s hard enough for a kid from Earth or Mars. For you . . .”

  Lucas knew that Tali was a lot better at social niceties than he was. Growing up on a mining ship meant spending a few days each month in port with whatever group of kids happened to be there at the time, and so you either got really good at making friends quickly, or you spent a lot of time alone. Lucas was solidly in the second category, and it had only gotten h
arder once Tali had left and he hadn’t been able to rely on attaching himself to her and the friends she made. And sure, it would be even weirder being on a ship where he was the only Belter. But that wasn’t going to stop him from joining!

  “I’d be okay,” he insisted.

  “How would you know?” Tali asked. “Literally everything you know about Earthers comes from movies. Trust me—you really don’t want to be at that school.”

  “You sound just like Dad,” he muttered.

  She stiffened. “Well, he’s right. About this, anyway.”

  Tali and Tomas Adebayo were nothing alike, except for the million ways that they were exactly alike. Lucas noticed, and not for the first time, that Tali’s reaction when he mentioned her adopted father was almost identical to the way their dad reacted when Lucas talked about her.

  Suddenly he missed his sister, which was an odd feeling considering she was standing right in front of him. But what he missed wasn’t Tali the cadet, but Tali the girl he’d grown up with. The one who had taught him how to use air ducts to sneak from one side of the colony to the other. The one who had taught him to fly with style, as she liked to put it. When she’d joined the Navy, it was as if those parts of her had just vanished. Now sometimes it seemed as if the only thing left inside her was anger. Anger at the Navy whenever she ran into some stupid regulation that she didn’t agree with. Anger at Belters, especially miners, who she now seemed to think were some kind of primitive culture that she’d managed to escape from. But above all, anger at their father.

  “How about we make a deal?” Lucas said suddenly. “I’ll never, ever talk to you about joining the Navy again. I won’t ask for any more favors or recommendations. I won’t bug you about any of it. I just need you to do one thing.”

  Tali looked at him skeptically. “What’s that?”

  “Go see him.”

  He knew exactly how she’d react to that suggestion. Which, he supposed, was why he made it.

  “You’d do that? Never ask about the Navy again? And all I’d have to do in exchange is go talk to Tomas?”

  Lucas nodded. He didn’t even have to consider it for a second. The rift between his father and his sister hurt him a hundred times more than not getting into the academy. And the extra, bonus, cherry-on-top stupidity of it all was that he knew it hurt Tali and his dad just as much. They were just too boneheadedly stubborn to admit it.

  “Sorry, Lucas. It’s not going to happen.” She turned and opened up the simulator’s canopy. “So are you going to get some practice time in, or what?”

  Maybe she and his father were right. Maybe this was all stupid, trying to get accepted as a Navy cadet. He probably ought to just study piloting here on Ceres, like his dad wanted him to do.

  Except that wasn’t what he wanted. Flying little mining trucks was fun, and he was good at it—even Tali had to admit that. But what he dreamed about was piloting the big starliners and cruisers like the Orpheus. No apprenticeship in the Belt was going to teach him that. His dad hated the Navy as much as any Belter, but even he agreed that the best capital-ship pilots, hands down, were trained in the Navy.

  Lucas turned and looked at the little courier that had caught his attention earlier. It certainly wasn’t a cruiser, but it was a lot better than the boats he was used to flying. Maybe there was a way to salvage at least something out of tonight.

  “Can I sit in it?” he asked Tali, pointing at the courier. “Just for a minute?”

  She sighed. “Lucas . . .”

  “It can’t hurt anything to just sit, can it?” he said. “You owe me that much.”

  Tali frowned, clearly weighing the risks against whatever obligations she still felt toward him. “All right,” she said finally. “But if you get caught—”

  “You’ll pretend you don’t know who I am,” Lucas finished. “I know.”

  He ran back to the courier and opened the canopy. Carefully he climbed into the cockpit and settled into the seat. The ship was so new that half of the controls were still covered in plastic wrap. The gauges and controls were all familiar to him from the mining trucks he was used to flying, but at the same time, everything felt completely different. Nothing was scratched up, bolted on, or hanging loose. Everything was in its proper place instead of being jammed in wherever it could fit.

  His heart soared just being in a ship like this. It was practically begging to be flown. He flipped the main power switches, and the console sprang to life. Diagnostic messages flashed and status lights turned green. He imagined what it would be like to take her out. If only . . .

  His reverie was shattered by a squawk over his suit’s comm system. “Who’s turning on my ship?”

  Lucas’s heart leaped into his throat. Who . . . what . . . ? He turned and saw a tall, silvery-haired woman in a blue-and-gold pressure suit striding toward them. Her name tag read Moskowitz. He didn’t know who she was, but she was clearly an officer, which meant that he had slightly less than ten seconds of freedom left. Tali looked back and forth between Lucas and the woman, clearly trying to come up with some explanation for what they were doing here.

  “Good evening, ma’am,” she managed.

  The woman stopped and cocked her head at Lucas. She was still a few meters away, and from that distance, the canopy and helmet were probably obscuring his face. Not knowing what else to do, Lucas gave her his best impression of a Navy salute.

  “Did you sign up for the night shift?” Moskowitz asked Tali. “I don’t remember seeing you on the list.”

  “Not exactly, ma’am,” Tali stammered. “But I thought you might need help.”

  Moskowitz turned toward Lucas. “You’re the new test pilot? I know I said it was high priority, but I didn’t expect you to show up in the middle of the night.”

  Test pilot? Something perked up in the back of Lucas’s mind. Maybe there was a way out of this after all.

  “Uh, yes, ma’am,” he said, deepening his voice by an octave. What did test pilots sound like, exactly? “Like you said—high priority.”

  “But we can come back tomorrow,” Tali said, giving Lucas an angry glance that he had no difficulty interpreting. “I’m sure now is not a good time for—”

  “Oh, I’m not complaining,” Moskowitz said. She tapped for a moment at the tablet she was carrying. “This way I won’t have to wait until the day shift to get my test results. Push her hard, and do your best to max out the gee forces. I think the hiccup in the starboard engine is fixed, but we won’t know until she gets out there.”

  Lucas grinned. This was even better than he’d hoped. She was actually asking him to fly this ship! As if in answer, Moskowitz waved her hand at the hangar doors. “Come on, now. I’m still planning on getting some sleep tonight. Take her out and tell me how that engine does.”

  Tali turned toward Lucas, her eyes wide, and gave him a tiny but emphatic shake of her head. “Get out now,” she mouthed.

  He grinned and put his hands on the controls. He couldn’t disobey a direct order from an officer, could he? And anyway, if he opened the canopy, Moskowitz would see that he wasn’t even a cadet, much less an actual test pilot.

  Ignoring Tali’s furious glare, he angled the engines so that they were pointing down and inched the throttle forward. Under his control, the ship lifted off gracefully and hovered a few meters above the hangar floor. He pushed the control stick forward, and the ship soared out through the hangar doors and up toward the stars.

  This was flying! Her thrust was only at a few percent of her max and she was already breaking free of the asteroid’s gravity. He banked left and flew in a circle above the colony. The main dome glowed a brilliant yellow, with the half-circle of the naval base barely visible around it.

  Lucas tilted the ship back until his engines were pointed straight down and jammed the throttle to its limit. Gee forces squeezed him against the seat as the ship leaped up into the night sky. The bright yellow disk of the sun appeared off to his left, and his helmet darkened to compensate for
the additional light. He flipped her around quickly and used full thrust to brake to a halt.

  “No need to showboat,” Moskowitz said over the radio. “How does she feel? Any stutter on that starboard side?”

  “She feels fantastic,” he answered truthfully. “Smooth as silk.”

  “All right, then. Put her through a few turns and see how she handles.”

  He made an experimental S-turn and then rolled the ship onto her back. She responded to every movement of the control stick without a hint of balkiness or lag. He tested rolls, banks, dives, and climbs, momentarily forgetting everything except the joy of flying a ship like this.

  As he rose higher and higher above the surface, he caught sight of a gleaming white shape high above: the teaching ship ISS Orpheus, where Navy cadets spent their first three years. The cruiser looked both elegant and deadly, with clean lines and polished transplastic windows that made his father’s ship, the Josey Wales, seem like the back end of a garbage transport.

  In less than twenty-four hours, the Orpheus, along with Tali and the rest of her students, would be heading out for the next term’s cruise. Lucas felt a surge of anger. How many of those first-year cadets from Earth or Mars or Luna knew anything at all about being in space? Half of them were probably sick from free fall and the other half would still be trying to figure out how to brush their teeth in zero gee. It wasn’t even the tiniest bit fair.

  “All right, that’s enough,” the officer said. “Come on back in and I’ll run some diagnostics.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lucas answered, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He flew one more ring around the Orpheus and then headed back to the naval base. As soon as he landed, Moskowitz closed the doors and repressurized the hangar.

  “Nice flying,” she said. “A little flashy, but I got the data I wanted.”

  Lucas paused. How was he going to get out of the ship without her seeing him? Tali, recognizing his predicament, tightened her jaw and looked around. They needed some kind of distraction. . . .

  “Thrust was definitely better,” Moskowitz murmured to herself, looking down at her tablet. “Cooling system pressure was a little off, though.”