by Patty Jansen
Cory was tired. After the visitors had left, he had been kept awake by his father's and Erith's voices in the next room. He couldn't hear what they said except that they argued, and then Erith cried.
He didn't like that. His father and his mother had never fought.
Cory flicked through the pages of An Eventful Life. Elephants, giraffes, who cared? Many of the children at the school would never see them. Why didn't they read about space exploration?
When he slumped forward over his screen, his elbow hit the forward button and school menu came up. Oh hang it, he was sick of this stupid book. He selected the choice labelled 'Humanity and their Environment.' That sounded a lot more interesting.
He flicked through some maps of the world, both recent and past. There was also a map of Arcadia, the largest town of the Earth colony on Taurus. The streets were all straight, and had names like Endeavour Street, Adventure Street and Hope Street. The outskirts of the town petered out in half-finished projects. The words Great Taurus Desert occupied the empty space beyond. Cory had seen photos of the intensely yellow sand stretching away into a hazy horizon. The only trees at Taurus had been brought from Earth and grew in protected spots in the town, out of the breath of the desert winds. He remembered photos of great drilling installations—to find the water reserves said to be hidden under the surface. No one had found any; scientists had discovered New Taurus instead, a planet close to the exit of another jump point. Green and lush, full of life, and water. That's where the Aurelian was going: to prepare for human settlement.
Under another heading, Cory found an article on the very first space explorers, after Earth scientists had found the natural jump point in the outer reaches of the solar system. There were pictures of the team holding their medals, and quotes from speeches made by important people saying that the universe now lay at humanity's feet. Almost a hundred years on, Taurus and New Taurus were the only habitable worlds Earth's scientists had found. That's why Earth needed to join the Union, his father had said. There weren't any natural jump points close to habitable worlds; the Union's Exchange created the jump points where they were needed.
Cory started when Miss Rosier's dark skirt entered his field of vision. 'You have found no suitable clothes, Cory?'
Oh ferrets, he had completely forgotten. He met her eyes squarely. 'No, Miss Rosier.'
'You truly have no long trousers?'
'I hate wearing long pants.'
Across the aisle, Bianca gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth.
'Cory, at Midway, we do not use the word "hate" in class. It is a word that describes a strong and ugly emotion.'
'OK, I don't like wearing long pants.'
'What you like or don't like is of no importance. If you truly have no suitable clothing, I shall have to write a note to your father.'
Cory said nothing. As if his father would care.
Miss Rosier slowly crossed her arms over her chest. 'Cory, I don't like your attitude towards school. At Midway, we dress properly, we do our work without protest. I told you yesterday that being the director's son gives you no special position in class. Go back to work.'
Cory stared at his screen, but the letters danced in and out of focus. He wasn't asking special treatment because his father was the director. All he wanted was something interesting to learn. He grabbed his stylus, but only fiddled with it, drawing circles and bigger circles.
Miss Rosier turned on the projection screen. Cory's answer page appeared on the wall behind her, complete with the circles.
One by one, his classmates looked up at the screen, frowning.
'This is the wonderful work performed by your classmate Cory,' she said.
One of the twins snorted.
Miss Rosier continued, 'One day maybe when I visit a great art museum on Earth, they will display this as the masterpiece of the century.'
Everyone in the class laughed, the twins hardest of all. Cory stared at the screen, clenching his jaws.
'Until that point, though, you are a student in my class, and you're still not working, Cory.'
'This book is boring!' He shouted so hard his voice reverberated in the classroom.
Silence.
Miss Rosier slowly rose from her seat. 'What did you say?'
Cory now trembled all over. 'I said the story is boring. I don't want to learn about stuff that happened three hundred years ago. What about now? What about the Union-Earth conference? Why don't we talk about that?'
Everyone gaped at him, including Alma.
Miss Rosier's nostrils flared. 'I think, Cory, you might want to stay after school.'
* * *
Cory hunkered in his bench while his classmates filed out the classroom, flicking him glances of pity. One of the twins grinned at him. 'Good luck.' He slapped his hands together before pushing his brother out the door, both roaring with laughter.
Cory wished he could laugh, too. He had no idea what the signal meant.
When the last of the children had gone, Miss Rosier slid the door shut. Without speaking, she picked up a long stick from the corner of the room and pointed it at the front desk. 'Sit there.'
Cory hesitated. 'But that is Joseph's—'
'Sit there I said.' She slammed the stick on the surface with a crack. 'And not a word unless I ask you a question.'
His eyes on the stick, Cory scrambled to take Joseph's seat. Meanwhile, Miss Rosier paced the aisle beside him, from the front of the classroom to the back, tapping the point of the stick on the ground with each step. 'Now, Cory, I don't like keeping students back after school. It means that I have to stay back at school, too. That doesn't make me happy.' She turned and paced back to the front of the classroom. The stick went clack, clack, clack on the floor. 'Cory, when you're in my class, you will do the work I set, whether you like it or not. What do you say to that?'
'Yes Miss Rosier.'
'You will not be rude when I talk to you.'
'No, Miss Rosier.'
'Then read out the school rules.' She gestured to a poster on the wall.
Cory read, 'You shall respect and obey the law and directions given by station management. You shall respect and obey your teacher. You shall come to school on time and stay until lessons finish. You shall not use bad language. You shall not speak ill of your family or families of your classmates.' Cory swallowed—would that have included Leon and Marnix saying bad and untrue things about Erith? 'You shall not hurt another child. You shall not lie. You shall treat school property with respect. You shall not bring to school any items that advertise your wealth or status, or demand special treatment because of your status.'
'Good. Now tell me, Cory, how many of those rules have you broken?'
'I . . . took my reader.'
'And?'
'I didn't do the work you told me to do.'
'And?'
'I was rude.'
'And?'
Cory couldn't think of anything else he had done. He hadn't been late, and he hadn't fought anyone today. Miss Rosier paced backwards and forwards, glancing at him when she came past on the way to her desk, and on her way back. When Cory remained silent for too long, she stopped. 'Hasn't your father taught you to respect adults?'
'I respect adults.'
'You do not!'
Crack. The stick came down on the bench next to him. Cory gasped; he could feel the breeze as it whizzed through the air.
He squeaked, 'Miss . . .'
Miss Rosier took a step towards him. Cory pressed himself against the back of the seat, remembering the twin's gesture. She wasn't going to hit him with that thing, was she? That was the sort of thing that happened . . . two hundred years ago. He opened his mouth, wanting to say, I'll tell my father, but he couldn't—it would be demanding special treatment because of his status. Besides, his mouth had gone dry.
For a long moment, she stood there, then she snorted, returned to her desk and put the stick back against the wall. She sat down heaving a sigh.
'Then let this be a warning, al
though I shall write to your father. You have obviously come from a different school system. In case you'll forget the school rules, I will give you a hand in remembering them. Write them out twenty-five times. You can start now.'
Chapter 12
Cory pushed a lump of meat around his plate, studying the shadows of his fork cast by the lights on the wall. Soft yellow, like candlelight. His hand ached from writing and if he closed his eyes, he still saw Miss Rosier coming towards him with that stick. He had only just come home, again without having had the chance to look for Flopsy.
This time, there were no visitors. Erith sat at the dining table opposite his father, also picking at her food. Then the internal telephone would buzz and his father would dash off to the hall or the office to speak to someone. In between those calls, long silences punctuated their meal. Silences during which Erith would glance at his father, and he would avert his eyes.
Eventually, Erith plonked down her glass with such force that wine sloshed over the side. 'I don't care what you think, John, but in my opinion, the Midway staff are keeping me out of the station on purpose.'
'His father's eyes blazed. 'It's standard procedure for people who have been sick.'
So this was what they had argued about last night.
'I'm not that sick. They hate me, because I'm a Union citizen.' Her black-rimmed yellow eyes were more vicious than Cory had ever seen them.
'Erith, please, don't start this again. The doctor will see you and then you'll be cleared. I have Sullivan's personal guarantee on that.'
'So when is that going to happen? They won't even let me speak to this doctor. It's all right for you to wait. You have people to talk to. No one talks to me.'
'Erith, please, don't you think you're taking things a bit . . .'
Erith rose, pushing over her chair. She grabbed her plate and brought it down on the table with a loud clunk, sending her wine glass rolling. 'Don't "please" me. I've had enough, John. Do you hear me? Enough!'
Cory scrambled up from his seat and backed towards the door. His mother had never argued with his father like this.
'Erith!' His father jumped up and closed her in his arms. 'Erith, my love, calm down.'
Her face scrunched up, she cried into his father's chest, her shoulders shaking. 'I'm sorry, John, I'm not angry with you . . . I just can't stand . . . being locked up.'
'The doctor will come tomorrow, or I will drag him here.' His father stroked her hair, meeting Cory's eyes over her shoulder.
His back pressed against the wall, Cory let out a long breath. 'Shall I . . . clear the table?'
'Thank you, Cory.'
Cory stacked the plates, his hands still trembling. When he left the room, his father asked, 'Cory, you've hardly eaten anything. Don't you like it?'
'I'm not hungry.'
'You should at least finish your meat. You need the protein to grow.' He released Erith, planting a kiss on her forehead; she sank down on the couch, sniffing.
'Here, let me help you.' He picked up the cup that had fallen over, and stacked it in the other two cups. Together, they made their way to the kitchen, where his father packed the dinner things in the tray for the water recycler.
'By the way, Cory, what's this note I received from your teacher about inappropriate clothing for school?'
Cory cringed. 'The teacher wants me to wear long pants.'
His father frowned. 'Does she? Why?' He thudded the recycler drawer shut.
Cory shrugged.
'Oh well, I'll let her know I'll get you some.'
'But Dad, the school is all funny, like an army—'
'I think a bit of discipline should do you good. You want to be a spacefarer, right?'
Cory nodded, thinking of the magnificent sight of the Aurelian.
'Most successful spacefarers start their careers in the military or peacekeeping forces. Discipline is very important there. Nobody asks a soldier if he wants to wear a uniform, or if the uniform is comfortable.'
'But the rules are all so weird.'
'Rules are often weird if you don't understand the reason for them—'
A beeping noise drifted in from the hall. The internal telephone system again. His father sighed. 'Can't they ever leave me alone?' He went into the hallway to answer.
Cory wanted to go to his room to see if there was a message from Garreth, but Erith leaned against the doorframe. Her eyes were still red and her lips looked darker than normal. A wave of pity went through him. It would be horrible to be locked up in the apartment all day.
'You didn't like the dinner?' she asked.
'It's rabbittooh.'
'You think rabbittoohs are not for eating?'
Cory shrugged. Suppose they were bred for eating, but the ones he had seen looked cute. 'A boy at school has one as a pet.' He wanted to say more, about that he agreed with that Midway staff were keeping her inside on purpose, but his father came into the doorway, eyes wide.
'I have to go. They want me at the control room. Immediately. There's been an accident with the Aurelian.'
The Aurelian! Two hundred of the finest researchers on their way to a great mission.
'What happened?' Cory's heart hammered in his throat.
'There was an explosion in one of the booster engines. They've shut down automatically and closed off part of the ship. Two crew are missing.'
Cory thought of the imposing form of the Aurelian in the maintenance docks, and all the crew in orange overalls. Then he imagined that magnificent ship with a great hole in its side. The room swam before his eyes. Not the Aurelian, the ship he had dreamed would take him to the corners of the universe when he grew up.
'Will they make it back here?' His voice sounded small.
His father passed an arm around his shoulders. 'We will do our best.'
* * *
Cory woke up just before midnight, or so the blue letters on the com unit clock told him. He rolled onto his back. The faint murmur of Erith's and his father's voices drifted through the door. For a moment, he lay staring at the starry sky on the ceiling screen, wondering what was going on and why he had fallen asleep in his clothes, but then he remembered: the Aurelian.
He jumped out of bed and opened the door. Soft yellow light sparkled in wine glasses on the table. Cory blinked.
'Cory? What are you—'
'What is happening to the Aurelian? Are they safe?'
A weary smile crossed his father's face. 'The two missing crew were found, but the booster engines are quite badly damaged. They're coming back for repairs.'
'So it was nothing serious?'
'We can't know for sure until they're back, but it doesn't look like it.'
'Do they know why the accident happened?'
'An explosion in the booster engine, that's all I know. The technicians have to find out the cause. Do you know what the booster engines are?'
Cory nodded. Even Rocky had talked about them, when he was testing a circuit board that . . . a cold feeling slithered down his spine. The circuit board. Rocky. That's where I want it, the thug had said, pointing at the screen. Rocky said it was too dangerous, but the man said he had to do it, for money . . . and the man had made Cory swear not to tell anyone.
'But weren't those engines just serviced here?'
'Indeed they were.' His father gave Cory an appreciative look. 'You may make a good station director one day, son.'
Cory's next words were careful. 'Do you think anyone here could have made a mistake?'
His father shook his head. 'No Cory, we have the best technicians. They do not make stupid mistakes. The computer services the parts, and everything is checked twice.'
Yes, Rocky had said something about that, too. He swallowed hard. 'What if . . . someone did it on purpose?' Rocky had mentioned the League, and Chiu had also mentioned that organisation at dinner yesterday.
His father laughed. 'Cory, you shouldn't watch so many movies. I'm sure we will hear about the cause of the accident when the Aurelian returns. Go to b
ed now. Tomorrow is a school day.'
Cory cringed. Not school again. Stupid rules, stupid teacher, stupid books about stuff that happened hundreds of years ago. 'I don't care about school.'
'But I do. Go to bed Cory.'
Cory trudged across the room, but turned at the door. 'Can you say goodnight?'
His father put his glass down and rose.
In his room, Cory pulled his shirt over his head and slipped into his pyjamas. He jumped into bed.
His father bent over him. 'Goodnight Cory.' The stubble on his chin tickled when his lips brushed Cory's forehead.
But Cory still had a question. 'Dad, what is the League?'
A few seconds silence followed as their eyes met in the semidarkness of the room. His father sat down on the bed and steepled his fingers. 'League?' His voice sounded reserved.
'I don't know. That's what I'm asking. Someone said something about it at dinner yesterday.'
His father's mouth formed the letter O. 'It's nothing a young boy should worry about.' He ruffled Cory's hair.
But Cory didn't give up so easily. 'But I want to know.'
'Cory, to explain it all would take a lot of time. It's very late. You are tired—I am tired. I want you to go to sleep.'
'But I want you to tell me. I'm a big ten year old. You said so yourself.'
'Cory . . .'
'You've been treating me like a child, ever since we've come here. You tell me: Cory do this, Cory do that, or don't do this or do that, and all you do is talk to people. We haven't played a game of chess since we left the Venture.'
His father sighed. 'I know, and I'm very sorry. It's not easy for me, either. Midway has been without a director for some time, and a lot of people have saved up their questions and problems. Once I have dealt with all of them, I'm sure it will get better.' His father took Cory's hand, squeezed it briefly and rose from the bed. 'But for now, I think you will have to teach Erith how to play chess.'
Cory scowled. Highly likely.
'At the moment, though, it's time for bed. Goodnight.' His father bent and kissed him on the forehead.