Periphery

by Lynne Jamneck

  Hoyt lifted her chin stubbornly. Makes no difference. I’d rather feel crowded on Earth, with a real sky and real weather, no matter how harsh, than spend the rest of my days taking my chances underground and my nights sleeping sealed in my quarters. There’s gotta be some unpolluted land left someplace. Some mountain valley in China or Canada or Alaska…some place with trees and birds that sing.

  Gaining access to one of the infrequent Earth flights had been difficult the first time. Now it was nearly impossible. It had meant bribing three midlevel officials, but she had procured the code card she needed. The captain of the space freighter had been lured by the two bottles of expensive fourteen-year-old single malt in her backpack. Yesterday, her vast holdings in pay credits and stock market profits had been downloaded from Devulba First National to Beijing Mutual. This time tomorrow, she would be flying through darkness, sleeping a miner’s sleep while tucked into the tiny confines of a freighter berth. Or more likely, pacing restlessly through the maze of corridors that bordered cargo holds filled with crystal. It would be a long trip, made longer by the fact that they’d be stopping along the way to deliver crystal at space stations and the big Vegas 2 colony on Earth’s moon. Eventually, though, the freighter would drop through a re-entry burn to the blue-white marble and Mao Zedong Spaceport.

  Hoyt dropped her gaze from another quick check on the feed-streams and caught a glimpse of red about a hundred meters away. Tucked into a jumble of peddler’s booths selling designer ale, pot stickers and junk of all kinds, Hoyt saw the red cap lingering before a black and yellow sign that read, Luck Shop. Squinting, Hoyt recognized the slim form in the too-big clothes. Anne Hutchinson was leaning forward, listening avidly as the man behind the counter began some spiel, handing her a bauble.

  Probably superstitious about lift-off, Hoyt thought, laughing a little.

  Then Hoyt saw an old woman emerging from the shadowed recesses of a tent at the back of the stall, the artificial sunlight highlighting her ancient face. Her silvered hair was pulled back and gathered in a tight bun. Gently, but firmly, the old woman pushed her way in front of the man. The shopkeeper protested, and the woman shushed him. Looking disgruntled, the man lifted a counter gate and moved out of the stall. He gestured angrily and said something more to the woman. The old woman merely stared back at him and he stomped off into the crowd. The old woman turned back to Anne, removing the object from the girl’s hand and dropping it into a basket. Abruptly, the old woman reached out and snatched the youngster’s cap from her head. Long, golden-blond hair tumbled down around the girl’s shoulders. The light in the square seemed to gather around her, like a miniature halo. Hoyt was enchanted. For a long moment, the woman studied the girl, who in turn gazed back at her, looking anxious and puzzled.

  Then the old woman abruptly turned and looked over the heads of the crowd, searching, until her eyes landed on Hoyt. Even from the distance of a hundred odd meters, Hoyt felt the power in the black-black eyes that met her own. “Come.” The woman mouthed, and Hoyt could have sworn she heard the commanding tone. “Come.” The woman made a summons with one clawlike hand.

  Hoyt found that she had been holding her breath. She exhaled sharply, straightening. I’m not some voice-imprinted miner’s cart, coming when I’m called. The woman across the square scowled. “You will miss your chance,” the old woman said. Nonplussed, Hoyt scrutinized the leathery, brown face, knowing that the woman had said those words, and aware at the same time that she could not possibly have heard that voice from so far away.

  Despite her misgivings, Hoyt shifted her hips to the edge of the statue’s base, then gripped the rim and gracefully swung down. She landed with a hop, clutching her backpack tightly as she set off in a jog through the constantly moving crowd. Her boots came to a shuffling stop as she pushed by several shorter men and finally reached the two women at the Luck Shop. Not quite sure of what she was doing there, Hoyt shook her shaggy dark bangs out of her eyes.

  While the blonde surveyed her, the blue eyes looking her up and down, the old woman folded her hands together and gave a slight bow. “Brave travelers, I believe you have already met,” the elderly lady pronounced.

  “Um,” the girl began, looking as if she were going to deny that she knew Hoyt.

  “I am Madame Hong,” the peddler stated, then said imperiously, “Come into my tent. I will read your fortunes.” When the girl took a step back, Madame Hong added, “Free!” She tilted her head and her frail body seemed to curl lower in stature. “You would be a fool to turn down such an offer.” Drawing herself up regally, she informed Anne, “I am esteemed reader of dragon bones.”

  “Oh,” the girl said, shooting a sideways glance at Hoyt, as if expecting Hoyt to bail them out.

  Hoyt shrugged in reply. “What’s the harm in it? Let’s see what the bones have to say.”

  The old woman lifted an eyebrow, studying Hoyt. “Always the cat, looking in the open door, wondering if there is something worthwhile within.”

  “More like a mean dog,” Hoyt warned, smiling back, “if someone in that tent is thinking of stealing something from me during this ‘free’ reading.”

  The old woman laughed. “Yes, you are very rich. So rich you have to be on guard every moment.” She peered into Hoyt’s eyes, “But you still have not managed to gain what you really want. How is that?”

  The blonde was edging away. “Thanks, but I’ve got a flight I have to catch—”

  “You cannot escape destiny,” the old woman stated, turning toward her, stopping the young woman with a serious, intense gaze. “It is wiser to be ready for what is coming than to hide from it.” As the girl hesitated, her mouth slightly open, Madame Hong coaxed, “What will be revealed will help you.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything to be scared of,” Hoyt murmured.

  The girl visibly bristled, giving Hoyt a glare. “I’m not scared!”

  Again, Hoyt shrugged.

  The old woman lifted the counter-gate and gave an imperious wave of her hand, directing them to come into the stall. Once Hoyt and Anne entered, she lowered the gate and placed a sign on the counter which said, “Thieves Will Be Cursed.” Hoyt chuckled. Madame Hong turned, ordering, “This way.”

  The girl stepped after her, reaching back to catch the edge of Hoyt’s jacket sleeve and giving a hard tug. One after another, they ducked as they entered the entrance of the little tented booth at the rear of the fenced area. A rectangular wooden table was at the center of the dimly lit, cloth-shrouded room. Madame Hong went to the far side of the table and took a chair with a round, woven-cane back. Realizing that the wooden table and the cane-backed chair were both rare natural fiber antiques, Hoyt’s estimation of the woman rose markedly. Madame Hong was no flea circus act.

  With a brusque motion the old woman indicated that they should seat themselves on the bench opposite her. Hoyt stepped over the bench and sat. After a moment’s hesitation, the girl slid in and sat beside her. They glanced at one another. Hoyt waggled her eyebrows and the girl’s lips quirked as she fought a smile.

  Madame Hong lifted a worn leather pouch and shook out several smooth, black rocks. Swiftly, the old woman arranged them in a row in front of her. Hoyt counted seven rocks, the kind one would find in a fast riverbed on Earth. Her voice very quiet, Madame Hong asked Hoyt to gather the stones up and hold them, while meditating on her heart’s desire.

  Feeling slightly ridiculous, Hoyt picked up rocks until they filled her hands. The cool surfaces warmed in her palms, and Hoyt darted a look at the blonde, who was watching her closely.

  You, Hoyt thought, all at once sure of it. I want a chance at bedding you, Anne Hutchinson. She closed her eyes, her heart heavy with the futility of that wish. To the girl, she was just another big, lunk-headed miner, over-paid and over-sexed. This exquisitely lovely girl would never want her.

  Hoyt knew Anne was probably already contracted in marriage to a man on Earth, a man of land and power. As soon as they menstruated, the daughters of the co
rporation bosses were sent off-world to keep them safe from accidental toxic contamination. There was so much metal poison in the waters on Earth now, it was affecting DNA. While it was a slow, insidious remedy for rampant overpopulation, no rich man wanted his own seed tainted or curtailed.

  Once off-Earth, protected and well-fed, the best bearing stock were permitted light duties to keep them occupied and distracted from their gilded cage captivity. Because both sex and education were withheld, it was essential to never let them gain access to the recreation center computer mods. Transporting ore to the top world in a motorized wagon, or working a bot in the hydroponic gardens, that was all a girl like Anne was allowed. Working on the periphery of the miners and world-builders, but never working with them. This girl had been kept in a cocoon for six years, and now was ready for harvest.

  Hoyt cradled the dragon stones, her throat tight. What’s the use in wishing for Anne? I may as well wish for a place where we can live happily ever after, a land of peace, plenty and purity, where we can have a family and start humankind all over again. With a long sigh, she released the stones and they clattered onto the table.

  Hoyt looked down and saw a bright golden light surrounding each stone. The old woman mumbled something that sounded like, “Dunce! Dropping them like they are nothing…” She reached across the table and collected the stones, placing them in a long row again. “Now, young one. What is it you want?”

  The girl stared at the glowing objects, watching with evident fascination while the light faded. As the stones once more grew dark, her slender hand deftly plucked up one after another. She held them before her, as Hoyt had done, then looked over at Hoyt; it was a long sorrowful gaze. Then she bent her head and closed her eyes.

  Hoyt watched her, thinking, She’s probably freer right now than she ever has been or will be again. No wonder she’s been wandering the market like a kid. Once she lands on Earth, she’ll be made a bride. Her family will have a profitable match waiting and she’ll be shipped off to some rich man’s estate. She’ll spend her whole life being sheltered and ordered around and will probably be very unhappy.

  Hoyt watched, amazed, as the stones in Anne’s long-fingered hands grew golden once more, then became bright white orbs. The girl kissed them and then placed them back on the table with a gentle rattle.

  The old woman patted Anne’s hand. “You are very powerful.” When Anne looked up, tears in her eyes, Madame Hong whispered, “All will be well. You will see.”

  Some distance away, a deep bass horn sounded. Hoyt and Anne shared a glance.

  Madame Hong tilted her head, her lined face smiling. “The boarding call, is it not?” As Hoyt stood up, shouldering her backpack, Madame Hong stood, too. With small, quick steps she rounded the table and pressed a stone into Hoyt’s hand. “Free gift for a brave traveler.”

  “What?” Hoyt said. She had been looking anxiously through the gap in the tent, to the bustling market square beyond. Now she looked down on the impish face in front of her, wondering what the old woman’s game was.

  The old woman extended a stone to Anne. “Keep this safe. It will help with the beginnings of things.”

  Closing her fist around the stone, Anne gazed intently at Madame Hong, before depositing the stone in a small bag on her belt.

  Bowing, Madame Hong murmured, “My Lady.” Gracefully, she moved to the table and with a decisive stroke swept the rest of the stones into the leather pouch.

  “You said we were going to have our fortunes told,” Hoyt began, a bit perplexed by the entire interlude. “That wasn’t fortune-telling.”

  “Perhaps your fortune is your own to tell,” Madame Hong pronounced. “You will do well, I think.” She turned to Anne. “Both of you.”

  The boarding call sounded again.

  “Thank you, Madame Hong. It seems we must go,” Anne said, her voice low and melodic. Hoyt realized that she could listen endlessly to that voice.

  Anne embraced the old woman, then led the way out of the tent. Hoyt followed her, glancing back over her shoulder at the little form in the shadowed interior. Wondering why she suddenly felt so well rested and alert, Hoyt lengthened her stride to keep up with Anne.

  They passed through the booth’s counter-gate and the crowd crush caught them. Hoyt shoved her stone deep into in her backpack, then grabbed Anne’s elbow and drew her close, afraid the people shoving past them would carry Anne away from the spaceport doors.

  “What ship are you going out on?” Hoyt asked.

  “The Jiang Zemin,” Anne answered, leaning closer to Hoyt in an effort to be heard above the noise. “And you?”

  Grinning happily, Hoyt replied, “Same.”

  Anne nodded, as if that made sense, while Hoyt wondered at the coincidence. She knew for a fact that three Earth bound transports were going out today: one a small tourist liner, the type that she would have expected Anne to have been booked on, and two freighters. The women continued to push toward the doors and as the glass entryways slid open, they hurried inside. They showed their code cards to two different guards and were allowed to ride the escalators that lifted them to the departure decks.

  They stayed together through the series of security stations, through the tedious checking of their reservations and boarding papers, through the bag and body scans. One leering guard became a little too suggestive with Anne in the questioning that followed the body scan, and Hoyt slid in front of Anne, furious. The guard stepped back, making excuses and looking annoyed to discover that the girl had a large and protective companion.

  As they walked down the metal bridge to the crew entryway, Anne looked embarrassed and whispered, “Thanks.”

  “What a cretin,” Hoyt murmured back, trying to bring her temper under control. “Am I right in guessing you’re making this trip alone?”

  The girl nodded. “My Aunt was supposed to come and escort me, but my father sent word that there’s some new influenza in that part of New England. The whole family got quarantined. My father said I would have to come back by myself. I was ordered not to talk to anyone and to stay in my berth.”

  “The whole trip?” Hoyt asked, incredulous.

  “Yes,” Anne answered glumly. “I don’t see how he thinks I can be on a space flight for over a year and not talk to anyone.” She lifted the cloth bag she carried and slung the strap across her chest.

  “How ’bout if I’m your chaperone?”

  The blue eyes gazed up at her, surprised, then pleased, then confused. She gazed down and her shoulders hunched. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “You’ll be anything but a burden, Miss Hutchinson,” Hoyt replied, laughing softly. “I’ll be thankful to have someone to talk to.”

  As they stepped through the entryway, the girl turned to her. “I’m Anne, not Miss Hutchinson.”

  “I’m Hoyt.”

  For some odd reason, they both simultaneously reached out and indulged in the old-fashioned Western custom of shaking right hands. For Hoyt, it seemed like time slowed down, and she looked full into Anne’s face and eyes, memorizing the way the youth and trust shone from her like a beacon.

  Side-by-side they crossed the long steel extension bridge that stretched between the terminal behind them and the wide cargo door of the Jiang Zemin. As they came closer to the open door, they passed a few well-dressed businessmen and a handful of uniformed crewpersons. The crew seemed to be arguing with the businessmen; Hoyt overheard one of the dandies demanding that a loader-bot was needed to transport the baggage crate he’d left in the terminal to the stowage space near his sleep berth. A crew steward was saying that each passenger was allowed fifty kilograms of weight, and that the man had already exceeded that weight with the traveling case he had sent along earlier. In mid sentence, the man spotted Anne and cast a hard, hungry gaze at her. Subtly Hoyt steered Anne to the opposite side of her and gave the man a fierce glare. With a barely concealed sneer, the businessman turned back to his dispute with the crew member. Hoyt spotted the name, Zhi Li Enterpr
ises written on the briefcase resting by his polished office shoes.

  “My gosh. It’s huge,” Anne whispered.

  Returning her attention to Anne, Hoyt saw the amazement on her face as the young woman gazed up at the long, sleek, silver-skinned ship that towered above them. She spun around, examining the circumference of the hundred meter wide tube that surrounded them. The walls were dark with carbon left by thousands of other blast-offs.

  “So do you know how all this works?”

  “The basics,” Hoyt said, smiling at the childlike excitement taking over Anne’s features. “Once the lift-off sequence has begun, the top of this launch cylinder slides back and the cylinder provides an exit path from Devulba Dome all the way up to the planet’s atmosphere. Mega-crystals drive the rocket engines with refracted light. After about seven minutes, the ship enters the upper stratosphere, simultaneously reaching the velocity required for gravitational escape. We achieve space flight, engines ramp down, and with a few directional burns, we do a fast coast to our first stop, McConnell Space Station.”

  “That’s a month away?”

  “Give or take a few days. There’s an asteroid belt between here and there that sometimes requires some maneuvering. Once we get beyond McConnell the engines go into hyperdrive, creating a magnetic field around the ship. That’s when we go a lot faster than the speed of light.”