The Far Horizon

by Patty Jansen

  'Get real. It's a game, Cory. That man Rocky just explained it was an accident caused by an . . . O-thing . . .'

  Oh, how thick could girls get? He rolled his eyes at Theariki, who hadn't heard the conversation in Rocky's room, and attempted to repeat his gesture but only succeeded in looking cross-eyed. Good grief. 'It's called an O-ring, not an O-thing, and for all I know, why couldn't someone have put it there? These new engines are perfect - that's what everyone always says. They don't break down.'

  Alma planted her hands at her sides. 'Oh really, Cory, you're talking false air - if you know what that means.'

  Of course she chose this moment of all to use a spacefarer's expression, as if to impress her superiority.

  'Yes, I know what that means. I'm not totally stupid even though everyone thinks so.' He jammed his hands in his pockets and strode towards the corridor that led to his unit.

  There was a hand on his shoulder, followed by a peculiar musty smell. 'No fight.'

  Cory looked into Theariki's eyes. He shrugged. 'It's not me who wants to fight. She doesn't believe me.'

  Alma called from behind. 'That's because your ideas are so totally far-fetched they're beyond ridiculous. You've just seen proof there was no foul play and now—'

  'Oh, just go away, all right!' Cory's voice echoed in the corridor.

  Again, Theariki interrupted. 'No fight. Man with hair on face was at docks at night. I see him.'

  Both Alma and Cory stared at her. A few seconds passed before Cory said, 'What do you mean?'

  'Man with hair on face was at ship. He open door and go in.'

  'What? The Aurelian? What were you doing there? How do you get the lift to work without a key?'

  'Is easy.' She wriggled her fingers, indicating typing.

  Cory had a niggling suspicion he understood some of the problems Sullivan had with her. 'You said Rocky was at the Aurelian? What door? At the top or bottom?'

  'At bottom.'

  'What was he doing?'

  'I not see.'

  Alma's face twisted into a mask of sarcasm. 'All right, now I've got it. Rocky owes people money. Those people you saw threaten him are members of the Terran League. They want payment, which he doesn't have so instead he agreed to put the faulty piece in the engine.'

  Cory stared at her. 'Don't laugh, Alma, it could well have been something like that—'

  'Oh come on Cory, I was joking.'

  'But I wasn't.'

  'And you are a nart. A complete and utter nart.' She turned and strode off, her skirt flapping behind her.

  Theariki's eyes widened. 'What is nart?'

  Cory shrugged. 'Whatever it is, it's not good.'

  A brief silence fell, in which he gave her a sideways glance. 'By the way, what were you doing at the docks at night?'

  She looked away.

  Cory grabbed her arm and forced her to face him. 'No, tell me. How did you get in? Why weren't you with your parents?'

  Still looking away, she said, 'In Bekastana, young ones not live in parents' house until their choosing.'

  'Then where do you live?'

  'With miking.' At Cory's stare, she added, 'Group of children outside house. With older people. Parents of parents.'

  'You mean your grandparents.'

  'Not mine—everyone. Old people.'

  Everyone's grandparents? Or did she mean they lived in a kind of dorm with all the old people . . . but that was beside the point. 'You mean your parents don't look after you?'

  'They look after me, but I not live with them. I go with miking. Only here is no miking.'

  No, they didn't have a children's dorm, or a crèche, or whatever miking meant. 'So where do you live?'

  'Parents think I live with miking, but here other children live with parents.'

  'So . . . your parents don't even know you're just wandering around? Where do you sleep?'

  'Where angry man doesn't find me.'

  A wave of sympathy went through him. 'And what about food?'

  'Is easy. Get from . . . near docks.'

  All right, she stole from the food production corridor and then he had this idea that he knew where Leon and Marnix's ideas about ethies eating raw meat came from. 'And what about . . .' She didn't wash, that was abundantly clear, and where she went to the toilet, he didn't even want to ask.

  In a wave of totally insane sympathy, he grabbed her arm. 'Come. You can stay with me.'

  She struggled. 'No!'

  'Why not? There is a spare bed in my room. We can be miking, together.'

  Her eyes widened, showing their strange sandy colour. 'I . . . be locked up . . . like mother . . . like father.'

  'What are you saying?' Cory dropped his voice to a whisper.

  'Your mother locked up. My mother locked up. My father locked up.'

  'Is that what you wrote on the sock?'

  'Is code. For talking. My mother to your mother.'

  Some sort of password. He grabbed Theariki's arm. 'Come. We're going to my place.'

  * * *

  As Cory stepped into the hall, Erith came in from the living room. 'John?'

  The expression of hope fell from her face as her tiger-eyes met Cory's. Cory suppressed a feeling of annoyance. See—he was nothing to her. 'It's only me.' Then he added, 'I've brought a friend.'

  Hesitant, Theariki stepped into the hall, clutching her dirty overalls to her body. She bowed, hands clasped by her side.

  Erith gaped. She stammered a few words in some language Cory didn't recognise. She attempted a bow or some other greeting, but gave up and crossed to Theariki, almost crushing her in a hug. Tears blinked in her eyes. She spoke in rapid Coldi, and Theariki answered, while Erith alternated between wiping more tears from her eyes and ruffling Theariki's hair. Cory jammed his hands in his pockets. Fancy that. He had lived in the same house as Erith for months and she hardly said boo to him, and this strange child comes in and she... No, he was being stupid. Nasty, jealous and stupid. She hadn't made an effort, but he hadn't either.

  He slipped into the kitchen, but his father hadn't returned from work, because there were no food parcels on the table. The fridge contained a jug of reconstituted milk—he hated the taste—some lettuce and a container with leftover revolting white sauce. His stomach rumbled and all of a sudden, the lack of food in the house, his father's absence and Erith's and Theariki's voices from the hall became too much. And the disaster that was school, his arguments with Miss Rosier and Joseph's haunted looks when he asked about Flopsy, who seemed to have vanished, and . . . he strode to the door and slid it shut with such force that the plates rattled in the cupboard. He slammed his fists on the kitchen bench, kicked the cupboards, banged the doors . . .

  'Cory!' In the wan light, Erith's face looked pale blue.

  'Leave me alone!'

  'What is the matter?'

  'Leave me alone, I said. She is your kind—go and talk to her.'

  'But we want to talk to you, too.' Theariki stared into the kitchen from behind Erith.

  'No, you don't want to talk to me. No one wants to talk to me. No one cares about me, or believes me, or even thinks I'm worth talking to . . .' The kitchen bench, with its fake marble patterning, blurred before his eyes. He balled his fists until his nails cut into his palms. No. No crying. Not in front of two girls who would only make him feel ridiculous, not . . .

  The next moment, soft arms enveloped him, and that strange smell that hung about Erith's skin, and a hand ruffled his hair. Cory leant his head against Erith's chest and let his tears run.

  Erith said nothing, but only held him. When he calmed, she gave him a glass of water and wiped the tears from his face. The bluish light reflected in a glistening track across her cheek. She gave a sheepish smile when she wiped it with the back of her hand. 'I'm sad when other people are sad. Are you sad, Cory?'

  He didn't answer. That was a typical silly Erith-question.

  'You don't really like it at the school, do you?'

  He shook his head; his
forehead rubbed against her dress.

  'Do the teacher teach you . . . interesting things?'

  'She treats us all like we're babies. Everything we get is dumb, old-fashioned stuff. It's boring.'

  'Does she teach you numbers?'

  He shrugged. For someone from a culture where knowledge was important, the stuff kids learned at Midway school must be truly laughable. He looked up into her eyes, a strange green by the fluorescent light in the kitchen. 'Erith, I wanted to say the other day that I believe you that the people here keep you locked up. Theariki knows, too. She says her parents aren't allowed out. She has given me some sort of password, so you can talk to them.'

  'Theariki told me.'

  'Are you going to complain when the Union delegation comes here?'

  She shrugged, hugging him tighter. 'I don't know, Cory. If I do, it could make life very unpleasant for all of us.' Cory realised how true that was. After another silence, in which Cory sniffed occasionally, she added, 'Are you hungry?'

  'Yes.'

  'I am, too. We will have to wait for your father to come to bring the food.'

  'When will he come back?'

  'I don't know.'

  Cory's stomach rumbled as if in protest. 'No. I'll ring the kitchens, and maybe they can ask someone to bring it up. Dad may be busy for hours. I'm too hungry to wait. And then . . . how about I teach you two to play chess?'

  She smiled. 'I'll bring some drinks.'

  Cory went into the living room to set up the chess board. Theariki followed him, a puzzled look on her face. 'What is . . . chess?'

  'It's a game.'

  'Game like Doomland?'

  He shivered, although it surprised him that she got the name right. In Alma's room, she had looked like she wasn't paying attention. 'No, not like that. You'll see. We have this board and pieces—'

  A startled cry from the kitchen cut him off. 'Erith?' Cory jumped up, his heart thudding, and ran out of the room.

  Erith stood at the bench in the middle of the kitchen, her trembling hand covered in blood.

  'Erith, what's wrong?'

  There was no knife on the bench, or broken glass. There was nothing on the floor except dark splatters of blood.

  'Erith!'

  Erith groaned and leaned over the table, her face white. In two steps, Cory was in the hall. He didn't know how he remembered what to do, but he pressed the emergency code and bellowed into the intercom, 'Dr Savage!'

  See? The nurse had been right all along. Erith was sick, and now she was going to die, like his mother, just when he had finally decided he liked her. The hall blurred before him. The sound of soft sobs came from the kitchen. Erith was in pain. He must get her to bed, do something. He ran back into the kitchen and grabbed Erith's arm. 'Come, I'll put you in bed.' She wouldn't move; she stood there, shivering. The muscles in her arms had gone rigid with pain. A stain of blood spread up from the hem of her dress. Cory cried out, 'Theariki, help me.'

  Theariki came into the doorway; her face paled, but she said nothing and took Erith's other arm. Together, they managed to persuade Erith to let of the bench, and shuffled through the hall, leaving a trail of blood, although Cory still had no idea where it was coming from. They went into the bedroom, where Cory figured that they couldn't put her on the bed without getting the covers covered in blood. 'Get some towels from the bathroom.'

  He didn't know if Theariki understood, but she left and came back a bit later with his father's bath robe. Suppose that would have to do. He pulled back the covers, spread out the bath robe and helped Erith down. She had stopped shivering, but as she lay down on the pillow, tears tracked her cheeks. She whispered, 'I'm sorry.'

  'You are sorry?' If anything, he should be sorry. Sorry that he'd been so nasty to her. He sat on the edge of the bed, wanting to hug her, but he wasn't sure if that would hurt. Her face was deathly pale.

  Like his mother, hollow-cheeked and giving a weak smile, in her hospital bed.

  He was afraid, very, very afraid.

  'Erith, please don't die.' He hated how his voice sounded uneven.

  She put a clammy hand on his, and grabbed Theariki's with the other. Cory struggled to keep back tears.

  The outer door to the apartment slid open; there were voices and footsteps in the hall. His father ran in, followed closely by Dr Savage.

  Erith cried, 'I'm sorry, John.'

  One look, and Alma's father was at the com station near the door. 'It's Peter here. Tell Mark to come to Mr Wilson's apartment with a stretcher and get the emergency room ready . . . No . . . his wife . . . Quickly please . . . bye.' He came into the room.

  Cory's father met him, speaking in a low voice. 'I think you should know, Peter, these last few days my wife and I have become quite certain that she's expecting.'

  A rush of heat flowed to Cory's cheeks. What? Erith was pregnant?

  In his mind, he saw Garreth's little sister, refusing to leave Garreth's room, hanging onto the door post when Garreth tried to drag her out. She was crying and Garreth was screaming, Mum, tell Louise to get out of my room.

  Garreth's mother came up the stairs, took one look, and yanked Garreth away from the door. If I catch you pulling your sister's hair again . . .

  A sister. A horrible little sister, but this girl's fingers were long and spidery, the index finger and middle finger much longer than the others.

  Suddenly, the air was too hot, and the room too full of people. He couldn't breathe. Two nurses had come in with a stretcher on wheels and were helping Erith onto it.

  His father kneeled next to him. 'I'll go with her, Cory. I'll be back soon. You'll be fine here?' He glanced at Theariki, but said nothing about her.

  Cory nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

  They all left and then there was silence.

  Theariki gave a soft sniff.

  'Do you have brothers or sisters?'

  She raised her eyebrows.

  Oh bother. 'Do your father and mother have any other children?'

  She thought for a moment, then counted on her fingers. 'Six.'

  'They're not here?'

  'Live with . . . own family. They have children.' She stared at the other wall, the bluish light reflected in her eyes. Cory decided she missed her family, even though she didn't know how to say it.

  Then he saw himself walking through the central hall past the lifts, leading a little girl with yellow eyes by the hand. She pulled a face. But I don't want to go to school.

  And he said, If you want to become a spacefarer, like your mother, like me, you'll have to.

  Ha. What would Miss Rosier say to that?

  No, he decided, you didn't have to hate little sisters.

  His father had a much older brother, too; Uncle David was great fun, and he and his father didn't hate each other. Come to think of it, Leon and Marnix didn't hate each other.

  * * *

  Cory and Theariki waited in the living room, where Cory attempted to explain chess, but Theariki was tired and by the time his father came in, she had fallen asleep on the couch, her legs over his lap. Cory wormed himself from under their warmth just as his father slid the door shut, balancing meal parcels in his hands. 'Dinner,' he said, giving a grin.

  The awkward silence lasted until they were in the kitchen and his father had dumped the parcels on the bench.

  'How is Erith?'

  His father sighed, while yanking the lid off a container. 'Erith will be fine.' And then he added, 'She has lost the baby.'

  Cory stared at the table while he took the lid off something that looked like pasta. 'Why didn't you tell me?' He knew he sounded too angry, but he didn't care.

  'We didn't expect this to happen. I read a bit on mixing of races, and I found out that the chance that such a child would be born alive was non-existent. We didn't want to upset you.'

  'I am upset!' His voice wobbled.

  'Cory, Cory.' In two steps, his father was on Cory's side of the table and closed him in his arms. 'Cory, I am sorry. I r
eally am. I've just been so . . . busy.' He wiped a hand over his face and Cory noticed how tired he looked and that frightened him. It reminded him of the time his mother died.

  'So there won't be a brother or sister?'

  His father shook his head. 'It was enough of a miracle that she became pregnant in the first place. Our species of human and hers are too far apart. Just like you can't cross horses and zebras. But we've been talking about adopting a refugee child from somewhere in the Union. Only if you are happy with that of course.'

  The little girl on Cory's imaginary hand changed. She now had red hair and pale skin, and looked like a miniature version of Theariki.

  He shrugged and didn't know what to say. He hadn't worked out what he wanted; he had never thought about this and now he'd gained a little sister, lost her, and then gained a new one all in one afternoon. 'When is Erith coming back?'

  'Soon.' His father smiled. 'She wants to say thank you, Cory. You were a real man today.' He closed Cory in a hug.

  Cory leaned into his father's warmth and then realised one thing: his family would never be boring. 'If we get a little girl, do you think we could once visit wherever she comes from?'

  His father laughed, a rumble in Cory's ear, then ruffled his hair. 'Now that's more like the Cory I know. Come, let's take this food into the living room, and then you must tell me all about this young man asleep on our couch.'

  'It's Theariki. She's a girl. Dad, can she stay here? She can sleep in the spare bed in my room.'

  His father frowned. 'What about her parents?'

  'She says with her people children live in groups, together with other children.'

  His father's eyebrows rose. Then his face cleared. 'I see. Bekastana. Why in heaven's name would my predecessor appoint a Bekastani with a family as Union observer? Bekastani work in groups. They're miserable on their own.' His father breathed out with a hiss. 'Another thing to be looked into tomorrow. All right. Let's get both of you fed and into bed.'

  Chapter 17