by Kurt Johnson
“The cruiser on our doorstep earlier this week was intended to gauge our reaction. Cri’s expulsion was maneuvering.” Mom’s eyes flashed gold at Dad. “Taking Raystar’s hair was a direct attack. They ARE moving against us.” She looked down at her laced hands, “AI was right about our distraction.”
I winced at the mention of his name.
“We’ve extended too much trust to AI, despite his origin and our circumstances,” Dad said, grinding his teeth, and then took a millisecond’s glance at me. “We have not relaxed our vigilance. He has not ever been correct about you and me, love.”
“Love?” Mom looked at him. “LOVE?” She shouted, throwing her pad to the floor. Pieces skidded to the far corners of the kitchen. Cri and I shrank back from her, eyes wide. “Was that not AI’s primary concern? Our love?” Mom’s scar shone black against her red skin and golden eyes. Veins pulsed along her neck. “Is that not why we’ve failed?”
“Sathra. Peace,” Dad said, pumping his palms downward. “I–“
“You WHAT?” Mom yelled, glaring at him with twin suns. Cri and I pressed our backs against the kitchen table in unison.
Dad dropped his hands to his waist and lowered his voice. “Sathralea, our love is not the problem. We. Have. Not. Failed.”
Mom blazed on and took a step toward Dad. He took a step back. She drew two small plasma pistols from her jacket and held them up. Then, she produced a curvy sword as long as my arm that had been hidden along her thigh. “No? Then why do I have these with me always? We, in spite of these,” she turned, her eyes blazing and her scar livid, and gestured at me with the sword, “have not kept HER safe.”
I blinked and looked from Mom to Dad and moved slightly against Cri so I could feel her warmth against me. She pressed back against me.
Dad dropped his hands to his waist and stared at his wife. “Sathralea.”
Mom reholstered her plasma pistols and sheathed her sword. She moved to Dad, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him into a hug. He looked down into her gaze. My parents were cracking. Because of me. They were fighting because of me.
Cool things other species could do? I’ve stopped counting. Individuals Raystar could destroy through association? The body count was increasing.
“Uh,” Cri said, mostly to herself. Mom heard Cri, though, and a change flickered over her expression. She pulled Dad’s face close and kissed him, patted his biceps with her lower arms, and pushed herself away.
Mom looked at Dad intently across the short distance between them and considered her next words. The depth of their history, accented by a slightly sad smile, overflowed from her gaze. “Commander,” she intoned, “This is not the time for us to have this discussion.”
Dad blinked, and in that instant, he was replaced by someone else. He’d been called “Commander” now several times. He drew himself up, and I realized it wasn’t a nickname: It was a title.
Nova and gravity wells. Did I know anything about my parents?
“Mother and Father have not decided on a course of action,” he started after a millisecond’s pause. “And what of Raystar’s meeting with Broodmother? And the Asrigards? Sathral–.”
Meanwhile, in siblingville, Cri stepped away and frowned at me under heavy brows before looking back at Mom and Dad. I was so caught up in my parents’ imminent destruction that I’d almost missed my sister’s glance. She seemed to be constantly mad or unhappy with me lately. Frankly, I didn’t need the stress. Or the guilt. Or whatever she thought I was doing wrong. I looked back at Mom as she spoke.
“We cannot wait for others to save us,” Mom said. She punched the table softly with a fist, as if the table was whatever she was thinking. “Brother is disappointingly consistent. Godwill is an impostor, which suggests a deeper and broader infection. There is more here than a ‘hunt’ for our daughter.” She slowly shook her head and dark black hair cascaded around her face. Her anger turned her scar a deep purple. “These Battle Groups are in transit. We have, maximum, five days before their arrival. Certainly no more than that.”
I glanced at my sister in the silence that hung after Mom’s words. Cri, who had taken a perch a little away from me on the kitchen table, peered between Mom and Dad. Though she was bigger and stronger than me, I sensed she wouldn’t cope well with change. She swung her feet, and her legger slippers limply trailed fluffy red and yellow arms within the back and forth motion.
“Where will we go?” Cri asked. She was a child of Nem’. This was her world. I’d foolishly thought it was mine. She and I had watched vids about other planets and space habitats, had even played that we lived on them. But neither of us seriously considered the reality or possibility of living somewhere else. I mean, what were the schools like? Grocery stores? Would I need new clothes, based on the atmosphere? How long would it take to make new friends? How would I keep in touch with my old ones? That last question was more Cri’s problem than mine.
“What about the Gathering?” Cri asked, hopeful. Mom and Dad exchanged a thought in a microsecond of eye contact. Dad shoved his lower hands in his pockets and folded his upper hands across his chest. He hunched over slightly.
“The Fleet is on the other side of the Convergence, and until it reaches its next waypoint, it is not an option,” Dad replied, turning his eyes to Cri.
The Glean Gatherer Fleet moved from system to system. It was a mobile homeworld comprised of hundreds of thousands of homeships and an innumerable swarm of public and private starcraft of all sizes. Long considered one of the wonders of the Convergence, it was essentially a smaller version of the Galactic Core made up of starships instead of stars. And because it was the Glean homeworld, nothing remotely threatening was allowed close.
“But what of, uh, your Mother and Father,” I asked. My parents frowned. I had to ask, though. I mean, they were Mom’s parents. They ruled the Ascendancy with more power than even the Heir.
An ugly question flashed in front of me.
What did Heirs do? Actually?
“Darling,” Mom said to me, “It is not that it is a bad idea. It is that space, time, and odds are against getting to their safety.”
“You mean, me, getting to there, safely?”
Mom and Dad were quiet. They traded a glance and an invisible message before turning back to me.
“Wait,” I said, eyes getting big as I stood to face them, “The Ascendancy’s not safe if I’M there? Is that what you–”
“STOP!” Cri yelled. “I’m sick of being mysteried! WHAT THE NOVA IS EVERYONE TALKING ABOUT?”
“We will go to the Embassy. We will go to Ever.” Dad ignored both of our questions and nodded to himself. “And we must leave now.” He turned to Mom. “Your Brother will furnish clothes and supplies when we arrive?”
“Predictable,” Mom said, tracing her scar. She turned to Dad. “Do you think we can act normal enough to deceive Godwill for just one more day? The Asrigards are attending the Facility tomorrow for some announcement.”
Cri looked between them in amazement as they ignored her.
“Let’s send Raystar to school and then depart when we pick her up. The misdirection will work. They would not dare attempt anything with thousands of students and cameras, and….” Mom continued, talking to herself now, “if I was Godwill, I would expect us to leave tonight.”
Yeah, except after today, going to school was the worst idea in the world. The worst.
“Can’t they take her at school whenever they want?” Cri asked, resigned to not having her question answered. She turned her eyes down and swung her feet again. I thought I saw a corner of her mouth turn up into a smirk as she thought through THAT scenario.
Dad frowned and looked out the window. Mom spun and, with a curl of her wrist, activated the control wall. “Show us visuals of defense sats and NPD aircar traffic within 300 kilometers.”
The house synth created a 3-D holo of Blue River, the Mesas, and the surrounding countryside. Mom grabbed the image and positioned it so we were looking down at
Nem’ from orbit. Three red dots shone in the space above Blue River.
Defense sats had both space-to-space and space-to-ground weapons. Their armaments ranged from directed energy beams to missiles. Three of them were arranged in a geosynchronous orbit and could cover us for more than a 700-kilometer radius. They were essentially right above us. She grabbed the holo again, and the continent raced toward us as the view magnified.
Blue River looked like a swarm of insects as regular traffic flowed in and out of the city. A major airway followed above the high-speed land train and disappeared in the general direction of Ever. The expected number of NPD cars, represented as smaller red dots, wove in and out of the traffic. But the additional dots located at the edge of the map were alarming. Assuming those were NPD cruisers, they could effectively intercept any traffic to the capital.
“They can take us any time they want,” Mom sighed. Her scar was a purple streak across her face. I imagined it pulsing with a mother’s will to defend her own, but it didn’t sound like her anger was directed only at our circumstances. I remembered their fights. Was I a wedge between them?
I looked from Mom to Dad. They’d never told me how they’d met, and I was feeling like that was important. I was feeling like I was the source of the anger they pointed at each other.
“Even with AD9’s assistance, our ship will not be ready until tomorrow evening. I…it needs fuel.” Dad looked chagrined. Mom raised an eyebrow. Our spaceship was out of gas?
“What if we didn’t go to Ever?” I asked. My family, in unison, turned to me. “Uh. AI mentioned a base. Under the Mesas.” Mom and Dad exchanged a glance. Cri stopped swinging her legs and looked at me. “A Human base,” I continued, now in a smaller voice.
“There is no base under the Mesas,” Dad said. Then, looking at Mom, he waved three hands at me. “See? The thing filled her head with these notions. No. We need to get to Ever, then offworld.” He turned to the window.
“Ray,” Mom said gently to me, “do you believe AI?”
I met her gaze squarely. “I’m having a tough time with everyone’s truth.” I pointed at the display, the satellites, the security forces blocking our path to Ever. Before she could follow up her frown with words, I added, “But given that the Mesas are inside the ring of ships and satellites, it seemed unpredictable enough to bring up.”
“Even if it were true,” Mom said gently, “it’s a Human base. Could WE get in?” She pointed to herself, Cri, and Dad. “How would YOU get in?” She moved closer to stand in front of me. Uh.
I looked up at her as she continued.
“We have resources offworld. Tremendous resources.” She put her hand on my head. Yes. My stupid nova head had flushed AI, who probably could have answered all of our questions.
“I will leave first thing in the morning to file the official protest as part of the Glean Ascendancy,” Dad said, deciding. “The protest, plus Raystar being in school, will signal we intend to stay in Blue River.” He turned away from the window and faced us. “I will,” he paused, a crooked smile hanging on his face, “emphasize not only our intention to stay, but our ability to enforce our will.”
Mom nodded. “And tomorrow, we can take Raystar to and from school.”
Gee. That would be new. I couldn’t wait to show up in a tank.
Dad nodded and gestured to the oil on his clothes. “I must change. Synth,” he commanded, “prepare a shower and get my uniform ready for tomorrow.”
I didn’t even blink. I didn’t know my parents anymore. It only made sense that nobility would have uniforms. Whatever disguise and camouflage they’d wanted to create here on Nem’ had certainly kept me from the truth. Sure. Why not have a uniform?
I bet he looked great in it, too.
“Affirmative, Commander,” the house answered back. I blinked. That word again. Dad’s shower could be heard turning on. He tousled our hair and made his way upstairs.
“So,” Mom said as she smoothed her suit and looked at Cri and me, “do you have homework?”
As one, Cri shook her head and I nodded. We glared at each other. I shook my head and she nodded. Cri threw her hands up. “Raystar!”
“C’mon, ladies. Knowledge is power,” Mom said. “Architect knows we need all the power we can get.” She sighed, ushering us toward the stairs.
I can’t believe that on the eve of my destruction, I’m doing flipping homework.
Pfft.
26
Homework is heavy.
I lifted the reader from my face and opened my eyes, wincing at the pain. I’d fallen asleep on my back while reading. The homework-filled data tablet had been resting on my chest, and it awakened me as it hit my face.
Nurse Pheelios’s assignment was to do a report on a governmental structure that could assimilate multiple views. Seriously, why not just tell us to write about the Convergence?
I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Assuming I lived long enough to turn my homework in, there was no way she was going to get that answer from me. Because facts were facts: The Convergence had not united its members.
Someone thumped softly on my door.
“Come in.”
My mom entered. Her scar was now vivid purple and looked like war paint against her red skin. She gazed at me intently with golden eyes.
I sat up and smiled.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
She grabbed my chair and shook it, dumping its contents to the ground. Mostly clothes, but my Human junk, er, relic collection also clanked to the floor. I blinked. What was it doing there? And what was up with Mom?
“Mom?” I said, swinging my feet down so that I was sitting across from her.
“Dad told me about what you did. With AI,” she said. Her lower two hands gripped the chair. She crossed her two top arms.
I froze and looked at her.
“AI was given to you by your par…your biological parents.”
I stayed perfectly still and quiet.
“He was your friend. You have no idea how many times he stood up for you with us, how he taught us about Human behavior.”
“Mom, I…”
“And the disrespect you gave? He was a sentient! Is a sentient! Are you better or worse than the Galactics who look down on Humans?” Mom was trembling; the arms of the chair bent under her grip.
My face flushed. I hadn’t seen it that way. I hadn’t considered that he was a Galactic. “I didn’t know,” I mumbled, lamely.
“Raystar Ceridian, do not insult my intelligence or yours. Did you have conversations with him? Did you confide in him?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. Salty memories rolled down my cheeks freely and plopped on my pajama leg.
“Did he give you comfort when you were scared, give you joy when you interacted? Could you depend on him?”
“I—.”
“So why does he need a title, or a certificate, or someone else to say he is a real person? Do you need someone to tell you someone is real? That they have a spirit? Are you so blind?”
“Mom,” I sniffed, wiping at my face, “I’m sorry! I was angry. Scared. Mostly angry, and I…”
“What. Do. You. Think. I. Am. Now?” she said, her tone flat and cold. “What should I do to you, given how angry and scared I might be?” She rose and headed to the door. Halfway across my room, she turned back to me. “Raystar, I say this once. Never in my dreams would I have thought I’d have to tell you at all.”
I stared at her, miserable, and licked salt from the corner of my mouth.
“We do not abandon family. It is the core of our strength. You are my daughter. A Ceridian. We do not abandon family. Ever. Find AI. Find him alive, or find his husk. You are accountable.” Her eyes were solar flares that lit up the walls as she turned and exited my room.
I started shaking and rolled into bed. I couldn’t stop the tears. I wadded up my blankets and hugged them with my arms and legs. Between sobs and memories of all of the conversations I’d had with AI—his help, his humor—I
wondered what I’d ever given back. I drifted into a turbulent sleep.
27
“No gratcher,” I said, waving away the heaping forkful Dad was tilting toward my plate. Mom and Dad frowned at me. “More eggs and toast, though. Please.”
Mom scooped eggs and toast from her plate to mine with a curious look. Nodding my thanks, I resumed my slouch. The eggs smelled good. I hadn’t been eating enough lately, and could feel my energy levels dipping low. I could feel the Storm Wall’s pressure on the back of my head, the headache just hovering at the edge of my awareness. But it was nothing next the tempest of guilt I was experiencing. Mom’s words thundered around in my conscience. AI was gone because of me. I loaded my fork, blowing my drooping hair out of the way, and shoveled it into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed.
“One moment, Sathra.” Dad’s charcoal uniform was lined with microstreaks of silver. As I’d thought, he looked good in his uniform. His medals read “Commander.” I blinked, wondering what he had commanded. His grey cape was connected across his collarbone by a brooch inscribed with the Ascendancy Creed: “Peace, Love, Family, War.”
He was a vision of grey, black, and silver, all contrasted by his red skin, golden eyes, black ponytail, and cleft chin. He was meeting with Godwill as an Ascendant, so of course he needed to be formal. Dad raised his jacket tails and strapped a sinister-looking flat pistol to the small of his back. Next, he clipped a long, slightly curved sheathed sword to his waist and its matching sibling on the other side. I stopped chewing long enough to note that his belt had two additional empty scabbard attachments.
Humming, he grabbed his smock from the wall. We’d given it to him years ago; from the front of it, the hologram of a younger Cri and me, eating pancakes, grinned back. “Hungry!” was printed above the image. He fastened it around his back with his lower hands while cracking replacement eggs into a pan for Mom.
I watched them from my shelter of purple hair. Despite the conflict between them, they were a team. A good team.