by Naomi Fraser
I used to enjoy the person I held within, the joy that came from healing. This new person—I don’t know her. My sight turns inward at some kind of terrible power I can’t control. I’m tired, so tired of all their manipulations. I can’t curb the poison and need a way to get it out of my system. My search for a better place has dumped me in a darkness worse than any nightmare.
“You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life,” I say in a liquid voice. Water washes away everything, and I allow it to clean away my sorrow.
After saving their wretched city from a crippling drought, being sold by mercenaries, jailing May and torturing her, they now try to kill the one person I love with all my heart.
I rise to my feet, empowered by an incredible rage.
They wanted me to kill children and work over entire worlds. Utilise my gifts as weapons.
Scum.
It’s about time they learn what happens when you anger a water healer.
Their suits expand at their legs, and they scream. Their guns clatter on the ground. They grab for their helmets in manic two-handed holds, running back toward the ship’s dock helter-skelter. But it’s useless and far too late. I hate who I’ve become; I don’t want to stop. One by one, they crash to their knees, and white dust clouds drift over their lifeless bodies in the navy combat suits. Some lie half on and half off the dock. Those with their helmets askew twist in an unnatural ways, their top halves dried to a husk. Fierce sunshine reflects off their skin, and the metallic biofilm makes their faces look like bones dipped in glittery wax. That so-called synthetic biofilm isn’t worth a damn.
A strange stillness envelopes the space, as if my ears decide not to hear anymore. The sun’s reflection glares off their suits and the pewter spaceship. Then I hear myself dragging in hard, rasping breaths that taste of dirt.
My hands shake, and I gaze at my sister, a dark ache clouding my chest. Water will not be enough this time.
“Oh, May.” I’m trembling so hard I can hardly walk. “Please hang on. Keep breathing.”
I lift her into my arms, and the thud of her heartbeat is the only reassuring sound in my world. It beats out seconds, each one prolonging her life like a rising ladder of hope. I can’t believe what I’ve just done with the soldiers; I don’t want to believe it. But for now it’s just enough to know my sister is alive.
The ship vibrates with an annoying beep-beep-beep, and I wipe away my tears, then turn to look at the loading bay.
Beep-beep-beep.
The dock can’t close because of the dead bodies lying on top of it.
My gaze snags on five hovercrafts aligned vertically in their compartments with their anti-gravity inactivated, weapons in holds on the wall of the ship—people stop at the threat of a laser gun. My knees shake as I stand and hurry toward the ship. Just before the dock, I bend and twist my blackened nails into the hard ground. When I close my eyes, I listen for the density of water. Now is my chance to figure out where we can go. The nearest town will have sprung up around a water source on this planet. Every object has a vibration, a pattern in the way the molecules move. The steadiest of physical objects emits a certain vibration, which is different to empty space and different again to the flow of water. The surge and swell shows up as living movement.
I turn with May in my arms, my gaze following a slight crack in the ground, and then the soil slips away. Layer one, until water floods in a blue sliver between rocks and then gathers in a small lake. By my calculations . . . two hours away.
Excellent, Astrakhan would say. Learning space and time is a necessity.
I stand, cradling May in my arms, my back muscles protesting, then trudge along the dusty ground for the ship’s gangway. I grab a white Med Box from the small cargo hold at the front. On the nearest hovercraft’s terminal, I numbly press in the only sequence I recall. It’s from my travels with Oshiro’s government officials to discover sites for well construction. The sophisticated and smoothly rounded hovercraft unlocks from its storage compartment with a metallic hiss and then floats above the floor, ready for departure.
“Please set your destination,” the hovercraft’s navigator says.
I select the “start” command, and set the large Med Box and a laser gun on the driver’s seat. Then I ease May inside the grey hovercraft, slip into the driver’s seat, and click open the Med Box to retrieve a huge syringe. A healing yellow foam fills a large bottle, and I vigorously shake it up. The syringe is just as big, but I withdraw a full load of foam, lift up May’s dress inch by inch, and then depress down on the plunger, pumping the medicated foam into her wound cavity.
She moans and shifts in the seat, her hair a tangled, sandy mess, but then she sighs and relaxes back down.
“It’s okay, May,” I mutter, studying her face. “Just keep breathing.” She will need extensive tissue regeneration.
After I adjust her dress with shaking hands, I secure seatbelts over us both and then press in the co-ordinates to bring up a compass. Alternate maps appear on the black screen with the terrain displayed on a grid in bright green 2D. I tap open the options to enable autopilot across the land at top speed. Two hours north and we should arrive safely at the town, which also gives me enough time to tend to May’s injuries.
Tracking chips are put into all the government hovercrafts, but I plan for us to be far away by the time they find the craft.
“Please keep your arms inside the craft at all times.”
A clear plastic dome twists up from the edges of the hovercraft and forms a visible seal above our heads, protecting us from the dry winds sweeping the ship’s dock.
“You are ready for take-off,” the hovercraft’s mechanical voice says.
I look into the large square of light, to the dusty terrain and fierce, blue sky. We’re about to fly into what appears to be a vivid television screen.
I punch the round, green button on the hovercraft’s console.
*
A settlement of mud-daubed houses and shelters loom in the distance. It’s not much, but right then, an oasis never gave me such hope. I delete the hovercraft’s navigation course between a run-down repair shop and a blacksmith’s. Wooden railings and walks surround both buildings, and men stride in and out a tavern across the street. Wheel tracks from wagons and other vehicles snake along the dirt path. Women with children on their hips wander down the street, baskets hanging from their free hands, while workers with sacks of grain disappear into what looks to be a distillery.
I need a doctor for Maybelle and someone willing to trade for transport off this rock. I press the button to release the dome over our heads, and a step curves in a fluid movement to the ground. Dust sweeps in a whirl beneath my feet.
The air smells of fresh mud and wood smoke from nearby chimneys. Wagon, motor vehicle, and other spacecraft debris from the repair shop help hide the silver flash of the government’s hovercraft. Hopefully, we will not be needing it again. The surest way to steal a craft is to know the code and get rid of the machine quickly. May sleeps, but I brush away her fringe to get a better look at her colour.
A scarlet flush suffuses her cheeks, overriding the sunburn. Cold sweat beads her forehead from the hovercraft’s air-conditioning. I hug my sister close, with the Med Box dangling from one hand, clutching the laser gun with the other. The nape of her neck stinks of the chemical healing foam, though the scent of charred flesh surrounds her mid-section.
Careful not to jostle her, I emerge between the repair shop and the blacksmith. The raucous noise from the tavern makes me hesitate. I have no idea what I’ll find in this settlement, and it’s obvious the people are too poor for the technological advances other civilisations take for granted.
A mechanic rounds the corner of the repair shop and stops dead. His gaze flicks to my face, my sister’s body, and then to the laser gun by my right thigh. His eyebrows rise, thick fingers cupping a cigarette filter in his mouth. He pulls out the cigarette, blows smoke through his nostrils, then flicks the ash to the
ground. He throws a muffler onto a pile of car parts. “What you doing here?” he rasps.
“I need a doctor,” I say, unable to help the desperation in my voice. “My sister’s been shot.”
His lips twist, revealing a flash of yellow teeth. “Don’t want none of that problem. Doctor went to sleep two moons ago and never woke up. It happens when you drink too much of the hard stuff.” He barks out a laugh, his pock-marked face turning red, and turns to leave.
“Hang on. Please,” I call out. “Please, you have to help me. Isn’t there someone, anyone else who can help us? Someone you’ve heard of who practices medicine?”
He scratches his temple and hesitates, turning around. He stills, then his eyes narrow over my right shoulder. “That your hovercraft?”
“No, it’s the government’s,” I say stiffly.
He grins and rubs his hands together. “Uh-huh. No love lost. I get it. Keen to trade?”
“Err . . . yes, but it will have a tracking chip,” I warn.
He shakes his head and laughs. “That’s no trouble, I’ve removed a few in my time. I could never get hold of the codes though. How many do you have?”
“Only one. I’ll give it to you if you help me find a doctor. A clean trade, no double-crossing,” I say, moving the laser gun closer to my right thigh. “The destination of the craft will have been uploaded to their database. I’d say you have less than an hour to do what you want with it.”
He nods. “Deal. That’s all I need. I won’t be here by then.”
“Do you have a pen?” I ask, moving the gun into my left hand, hardly able to hang onto my sister.
He removes a thick, black marker from his back pocket and then hands it over.
“Pull up your sleeve.” I rip off the lid with my teeth, write the code on his forearm and then replace the lid on the pen. “Cover it up. Now,” I look up at him, “a doctor?”
“That code works on all their ships, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” The huge pores in his grimy face look too close, and a shiver of unease runs down my spine. I switch the laser back to my right hand. “If you know how to fly them, and if you can do it before they delete the code.”
He jerks his head to the side, gesturing to the tavern across the dirt street. “Travellers landed this morning, asking around the pub for information about government tech. Word is they have a doctor on board their ship at the back of town. We don’t want no government to let off a bomb he—”
“Thanks.” I hurry across the street, onto the boardwalk in front of the tavern, and then shoulder my way through the swing doors of the tavern. The interior is cool and dark, but the first thing to greet me is a television screen, the glass looking like a rectangular eye cut out of mud-brick wall. A ridiculous ad plays about some new alcohol, but it is so long since I have seen television, I only give it a cursory glance.
May’s soft moan makes me realise where I am, and I don’t have much time. I rush down a small, sloped staircase into the open, underground inn. Cracks spiderweb the walls, like thin tree branches in a forest. More screens play against the far walls all with the same ad. I slip into the main tavern area where the air is even cooler and coloured bulbs light the way, along with a few skylights. All the edges are smooth around the TV screens, and there’s a curved lip to the bar, as though everything is moulded from wax.
A man wipes down the bar while two girls walk the floor, collecting glasses and rubbish and cleaning tables.
I hurry to the bar, enjoying the cool waft from the beer taps, though each footfall feels like a thunderclap. But that’s just my imagination. The room is full of thirsty men. Yet, everyone is staring, I can feel their eyes.
“What’ll it be, love?” the bartender asks, leaning across the bench, studying my face. A sly smirk climbs at the corner of his mouth, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Not lost, are you? You look like you could do with a hot shower.”
My face remains stony because my sister is not invisible, he’s just acting like she is. Death is an inevitable fact on Detera. “Just information. My sister needs a doctor. You have visitors. Where are they?”
“Other than you?” He sighs, looks down at the laser gun, and then points over to a group of men behind a fake flower screen wall. “They came this morning, asking for information, but if you’ve got the money to spend, then they’re your best bet. Not many travellers come here,” he says sardonically.
“Lucky them. Thank you.” I turn and cross the floor, weaving around full tables and chairs to get to the group of men. For some reason, I gather some type of important meeting or exchange is going on, but I approach them without hesitation.
“I would like to make a trade. My sister needs the services of your doctor.” My voice cracks and arm aches, so I readjust the Med Box and accidentally knock forward the laser gun, nudging the trigger.
The ignition whine of the laser makes all five men look up, but one stands, pulling the gun from the holster at his right hip, his gaze on the laser gun in my right hand.
“Put down the gun,” he orders.
“I am not going to shoot.” I shift the Med Box to my feet. “The bartender said you need information. I can help you, and then you can help me. My sister’s hurt.”
His eyebrows rise, and he stares at the laser, then looks at the other men. “Excuse us for a moment, won’t you, gentlemen?”
“Sure.” Although most of them get up straight away, some take their time. They mumble and grab their drinks, giving me strange looks. I still hold Maybelle in my arms, her head resting on my left shoulder. The men choose a spare table close by, scraping back the chairs legs against the floor to sit.
“And you are?” the man left behind asks, holstering his gun.
“Someone who needs help. My sister was hurt while we were escaping captors in the Oshiro desert.”
The smooth lines of his face soften. “Ah. Bastards. She looks young.”
“She’s seven. They weren’t the top-notch in nutrition and held us in detention for a long time.”
He frowns and sticks out his right hand. “Captain Marcus Collins of the ship Liberty.”
I grasp his hand, intent on giving his warm, firm hand a cursory shake, but his fingers linger on my palm, and shivers ripple down my neck. His brown hair gleams with maple highlights in the beam from a meagre sky light in the tavern. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognise he is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. He has broad shoulders, a lean strong body, a hawkish nose, and uncompromising lips. Deep blue eyes. But I’m not used to seeing men like him wander through the facility on my home planet or in prison.
The aroma of grilled meat and vegetables wafts by as a serving girl deposits a tray of food at a nearby table. A knife of hunger slams into my gut, and I moan. I open my eyes to find Marcus’s gaze on me.
“Hungry?” he asks. At my quiet stare, he waves over the girl and places an order for the special.
I can’t hear anything else he says to the woman, my stomach growls so loudly. “Do you have a doctor on your ship? I’ll tell you everything I know if you help her now.”
He casts another long look at Maybelle, and obvious concern flickers in his blue eyes. “I’ve never liked seeing children suffer. How bad is she?”
“They shot her with lasers.”
He blinks. “Hell.” He pulls out a small radio. “Chester,” Marcus says, then releases a button. “Come in.”
“Here.”
“Where are you?”
“Ah . . . working with a woman—” A faint scream. “Labour.” Static interrupts the feed.
“Listen, I need you at the ship urgently. There’s a child who has been shot with a laser. Come as soon as you’re done. Keep in radio contact.”
“Will do. Be there in twenty.” Another scream. “Shouldn’t take long. It’s her fifth child.”
Marcus smiles as he looks at me. “That gives you enough time to eat, and then we’ll set off . . .”
A rush of relief makes me tremble. “Than
k you. What do you want in exchange?”
He chuckles. “No offense, sweetheart, but I doubt you have the information I’m really looking for.” At my frown, he continues, “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll help your sister, but then I have to move off to find some tech.”
“You don’t want to trade?” I ask in confusion, straightening. “Why not?”
“Listen, if you’ve been in detention so long, it’s unlikely you’ll know anything. You don’t have to make a bargain you can’t keep. I’m not going to go back on helping your sister, so don’t worry about it.”
“I was also hoping I could trade you for passage off this planet,” I say quietly.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I can get help for your sister, but I can’t leave. Not until I get an idea of the tech they’re using to get so much water. Do you know it flooded here for the first time in—?”
“That’s the reason you’re here?” I ask in a furious whisper, leaning against the rock table. “An answer to all the water? It isn’t a machine, not technology.” My tongue is thick and unresponsive. “I’m the person you’re looking for.”
He laughs again. “Sure you are. I’ve heard some come-on lines, and usually I’d be interested, trust me.” His eyes sparkle as they roam over my face and figure. “I’m sure you clean up real nice. However, I don’t have much time for that now. We’ll help your sister, but other than that, we can’t leave until—”
The sharp beep of a news bulletin flashes across all the screens on the walls. Red hexagonal symbols with a white “warning” appear. The picture of my face broadcasts in a soft haze before the image holds as though the connection is bad.
“Victoria Undine. Approach with extreme caution. Reward is one billion credits. An escaped prisoner is on the run, and officials are warning she will kill all those who cross her path. Detain if possible. Do not kill.”
Marcus’s mouth drops, and the skin tightens around his eyes. He sits with both arms on the table, unmoving. Every man in the tavern turns to face me in dead silence, and I sit Maybelle beside me on the seat, then fire up the laser gun. I aim for the large monkey statue in the distance and swipe the red beam across its centre. The top half of the statue topples to the ground with a crash. The beam slices through the wall behind the statue, and the wall behind that one. Clean through to daylight, just like with Maybelle’s stomach.