Faring Soul - Science Fiction Romance

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

“I’m content with my lot,” he said quickly.

  “Really? Why did you leave Gry if you’re so happy with the Staffers’ creed?”

  “It’s the administration of the doctrine that I wasn’t happy with.”

  “So Cat said. But you don’t proselytize. If you’re such a believer, why don’t you try to convince others?”

  Brant almost laughed. “I don’t have to.”

  Lilita frowned again.

  “How many children have you had?”

  She looked indignant.

  “I’m demonstrating a point,” he said gently.

  Lilita grimaced. “Five.”

  Brant hesitated. “You don’t look that old. Not to have had so many and learned engineering, too.”

  “I’m seventy-five, little one.” He could hear the laughter in her voice.

  “All your children are College-raised, yes?”

  “Of course. What children aren’t?”

  Brant raised a brow.

  “Staffers. Stupid me,” Lilita muttered.

  “You’re already living within the precepts of Glave of Summanus,” he pointed out.

  “I’m College-bred myself,” Lilita said gently, as if he was particularly stupid. “Having babies goes with the territory.”

  “Exactly,” Brant agreed. “And look at you. You’re full of flesh and life, a natural beauty.”

  She smiled, accepting the compliment, but she didn’t pursue it, which supported her age. Someone younger and less experienced might have read more into his comment than was there.

  “Did you know that before the Interregnum, humans were barely human anymore?”

  “Ancient history.”

  “But quite true. There are records and images from those times that I have seen. Humans modified themselves back then. They added plug-ins and enhancements, they adapted themselves in ways that distorted the race. Humans were unrecognizable.”

  “And they stopped breeding,” she added.

  “Of course. Your college education would not have neglected that part of it. Humans stopped breeding. They were living longer. Rejuvenation for women, the body regeneration for men…people put off having children because, well, what was the rush?”

  “Until the number of humans declined nearly to the point of extinction, which was when Glave stepped up and started preaching about saving the human race,” Lilita finished impatiently.

  “The largest danger to humans were the modifications,” Brant said. “Many humans had modified and adapted themselves to the point where they could no longer breed. But now, children are plentiful and good citizens like you add yearly to their number. The human race is unmodified and pure.”

  “Just like Glave insisted…” Lilita said slowly.

  “Except for the longevity therapies, which humans are incapable of giving up.” He gave her a small smile. “I don’t need to proselytize. You’re already living Glave’s ideals. Staffers just take it one step farther.”

  “You let yourself die.”

  He took a deep breath. “Just like Glave, we let ourselves die.”

  Chapter Ten

  Keogard System. FY 10.070

  “For a pilot, you do very little piloting,” Brant said, as Cat thrust her foot into the leg of the environment suit. Brant was struggling into a suit of his own and had his back to her.

  She stood and pushed her arms into the sleeves. “I’ve taught Bedivere everything I know. He’s actually better at it than me. His reactions are faster. Besides, I’m a better fighter.”

  “So he navigates and pilots?”

  “Not for jumps.” She fastened the suit. “There’s too much to do. Even with Lilita, it’s a stretch.”

  “I have noticed the fourth station at the back of the flight deck. Who is that designed for?”

  “It’s a redundancy thing. The fourth person does double-checks and takes some of the details off the other three. If one of us is out of commission, they can step in.” She picked up the hard case on the bench beside her and tethered it to the waist of her suit, using the rings set into the suit. It hung, banging her knees.

  “So the fourth person must know all three trades?” Brant had his head down, studying the fastenings.

  “Enough to fill in at a pinch. That’s why we haven’t found anyone yet. No, don’t pull your hair out of the neck,” she warned.

  Brant dropped his hands away from the back of his head. “Helmets, too?” he asked as she held out one toward him. “We’re going…what was it you said? Twenty-five meters?”

  “With no gravity and a thin membrane to hold in atmosphere.”

  “So we could actually walk across without either suit or helmet,” he said.

  There was a solid thud that sounded on the other side of the wall. Bedivere’s voice issued from the wall speaker. “Umbilical attached and we’re equalizing. Give it a minute.”

  “I don’t trust molecular membranes,” Catherine told Brant and unlocked the inner door. There was a slight hiss as air rushed into the lock area. “A blast of the wrong sort of radiation and it all collapses and you lose your oh-two. I would rather breathe hose air for a few minutes than risk it.”

  “I’ve heard of molecular membranes. I understand the theory.” Brant studied the helmet for a few seconds, then put it on the right way around and connected it without fumbling.

  Catherine pressed the button on his chest. “You should feel cool air under your chin,” she said.

  He nodded.

  She put on her own helmet and adjusted the air flow. “Hear me?”

  “Yes,” Brant confirmed.

  “If you’ve never seen a molecular membrane at work, this will feel a little odd to you. Just hold onto the guide rails and look down at your feet.” She opened the outer door, using extra effort to crank on the handle. It didn’t hiss because the air had been equalized on both sides. Even so, she found she was holding her breath as she stepped out.

  She moved forward along the narrow catwalk to make room for Brant. The gravity from the ship extended for a couple of meters beyond the hull, but she could already feel the upward tug as her body lightened. The case next to her knees stirred.

  Brant stepped out, automatically ducking under the doorway, which showed how new he was to suit walking. He glanced over his shoulder. “Shut the lock?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She came up behind him as he turned to shut the inner door and they both maneuvered the outer door closed. “Bedivere, you can seal the airlock. It’s secure.”

  There was a deep mechanical thud that she could feel through her gloved hand on the hull. She stepped past Brant, who was standing and staring ahead and moved along the catwalk until just before gravity ended and looked at him. He was gazing up overhead.

  There was an unnamed planet hanging overhead, a big angry orange ball that swirled reds and purples over its incredibly hot surface. Beyond that was Keogard, a yellow star that shone steadily and brightly.

  Catherine pointed at it. “That’s why you got the radiation shot when you started with us. There’s no atmosphere here to provide a barrier. Only a meter or so of air.”

  “There’s nothing around us!” Brant’s voice lifted higher than usual.

  “There’s a molecular membrane holding in the air. You can’t see it. But the frames are holding the membrane in place.” She pointed to the circular frames that were attached to the catwalk every few meters, making the skeleton of a tunnel. “Hold the handrail and pull yourself along. C’mon.”

  She didn’t give him time to absorb it all and react. Instead, she moved ahead and gripped the rail as her feet came off the metal walkway and lifted up behind her. She hauled herself along the catwalk, moving hand-over-hand along the right-hand rail.

  The other end of the catwalk was attached to another airlock, built into the side of an irregular-shaped structure. There had been no attempt to create symmetry. The structure had been built long after artificial gravity was common and cheap. The only concern when designing the exterior had
been protection from space elements—radiation, particles and debris and other matter. The walls were double-hulled like a ships’, thick and sturdy.

  “Oh….oh!” Brant muttered behind her and Catherine glanced over her shoulder. He had stepped beyond the gravity and was clutching both the left and right rails, his boots lifting up high behind him and tipping him upside down.

  “Pull yourself along and your feet will level out,” Catherine told him. Her own feet, now she had stopped, were rising very slightly.

  “This is…very odd,” he said and started pulling himself along, using both rails. His arms were long enough for it. But he kept glancing up at the planet overhead.

  “Stop looking up. Every movement you make creates an opposite reaction. You’re making more work for yourself. Just look at me and pull.”

  “It feels like that world is going to land on us,” he said.

  “It’s been there forever. You’ll get used to it.” She turned and pulled herself along the path.

  “Membrane integrity is still good,” Bedivere reported in her ear and she smiled. He knew how much she hated them.

  “Thank Glave for that!” Brant spoke breathlessly.

  “Have you knocked on the door yet, Bedivere?” she asked.

  “Sibéal has acknowledged and is waiting.”

  “Good,” Brant muttered.

  The artificial gravity of Sibéal’s place extended farther than the field generated by the ship. Catherine felt herself being pulled downward and used the handrail to flip so that her feet made contact first. The case gracefully floated down to her side. Then she walked to the outer hull and turned to wait for Brant.

  Brant had figured out how to move with the most efficiency and was only a meter behind her. But when he reached the gravity field, he was unprepared. His head dipped down toward the metal walkway and as he was still moving forward, inertia tumbled him over. As his feet completed the cartwheel, they moved into the field of gravity as well and thumped down onto the plating. Brant stayed still for a moment.

  “Very elegant,” Bedivere observed.

  “Give him his due,” Catherine replied. “That was his first spacewalk.”

  “Thank you,” Brant said, still sounding breathless, as she helped him up.

  The outer door of the airlock rose upward, showing a tiny lock room beyond. “It’ll be a squeeze,” Catherine warned and stepped inside.

  “After being out here, it will feel wonderful,” Brant said.

  There was just room for both of them and the hard case between them. The outer door slid downward and thudded closed. Then a light flashed red on the inner door and it slid open.

  Catherine stepped over the sill into the room beyond. Sibéal was standing waiting for them and Catherine unlocked her helmet and removed it with a sigh of relief and smiled at the tiny woman.

  Sibéal smiled back, showing her pointed teeth. “Cat Shahrazad,” she said. Her voice was high, piping like a child’s and despite the angled tattoos that graced most of her body, she looked like a teenager.

  Brant unhooked his helmet and removed it.

  “This is the one, the one, the one?” Sibéal asked.

  “This is Brant, a member of my crew,” Catherine said. She touched her ear so that Sibéal and Brant would both know she was not addressing either of them. “Bedivere, we’re inside.”

  “Good. I’ll prep for the jump while you’re finishing up. Don’t be long.”

  She frowned. “Problems?”

  “Nothing I can point at right now.”

  Catherine smiled at Sibéal again. “It is so very good to see you again, Sibéal. You’ve rejuvenated since we last met.”

  Sibéal looked down at her shoulder and grinned. “It is good. Let’s me work.”

  “I’m afraid we must get right down to the business at hand,” Catherine said. She lifted the hard case. “I have this for you.”

  Sibéal drew in a breath that whistled, as her eyes and mouth grew very round. “You got it!”

  “I said I would.” Catherine held the case out to her. “There’s an environment bubble inside. You can open it and inspect.”

  Sibéal opened the case slowly, the smile on her face growing wider.

  Brant was watching with his head tilted to one side, a frown between his brows. Clearly, he was trying to put things together. The briefing Catherine had given him had been mercilessly short on details, but she wasn’t expecting trouble this time, either, so he would have to put up with being ignorant.

  Sibéal laughed as she saw the contents and she closed the case swiftly. Then she turned away, heading for the door. “Come, come, come,” she said and almost skipped through the slowly opening door.

  “Brace yourself,” Catherine warned Brant as they followed.

  He glanced at her, his eyes widening.

  On the other side of the door was a single, open and very large room. Sibéal’s abode had been built one survival module at a time. As a module was added, Sibéal and her husband, Rashnu, had removed the interior walls, until the entire space abode was thirty square meters of open space, lit with artificial daylight. Within the open space lay their entire lives.

  There were benches and tables littered with electronics, wiring, and tools. Desks were covered in screens and banks of computer servers held up more horizontal work surfaces. The scattered equipment and tools, the odds and ends of supplies, looked like someone had dropped everything from a height and left them where they landed.

  There were living areas mixed up with the work areas. A lounging chair next to a desk. A food prep unit sitting on top of one of the banks of servers. Catherine was struck again by the impression of people who spent their every waking hour thinking or working. Work was leisure-time, too. There was a narrow bed on the far side of the room, tucked into one of the corners created by the angular walls.

  Overhead, on every centimeter of surface that made up the “ceiling” were green, growing things, reaching down toward them.

  Brant stared up at the garden overhead, his lips parted in soundless surprise.

  “Artificial gravity can be applied in any direction,” Catherine pointed out softly. She pointed to the wall where a ladder was attached. “It spins in the middle,” she added. “You climb to the middle, to where the gravity switches around.”

  “Then wait for the opposite gravity to pull you around so you can climb down into the plant beds?”

  “Very good.”

  He looked at Sibéal, who was getting a lot of pleasure out of Brant’s reaction. “You’re a hacker?”

  “One of the very best,” Catherine told him.

  “I’ve never heard of Sibéal.”

  “The Federation and I parted ways a long time ago,” Sibéal said. She gave a little bounce on her toes. “Rashnu!”

  “Coming!”

  From the other side of one of the inward-projecting corners came a man of advanced age. He was sitting upon a hover chair, manipulating the controls carefully as he skirted around the work areas. “You didn’t mention visitors,” he complained.

  “It was supposed to be a surprise,” Sibéal told him. “This is Cat Shahrazad, Rashnu. And her friend Brant.”

  He stopped in front of them and gave them a stiff smile. “Forgive me if I do not reach out a hand in friendship,” he said. His rheumy eyes blinked. “I can’t break the membrane.”

  “Oxygen, oxygen, you understand?” Sibéal said, looking carefully at Brant, for he was the stranger here.

  “Pure oxygen inside the membrane?” Brant inclined his head. “A medical condition?”

  Rashnu touched his chest. “My heart. It will not behave itself.”

  “In all your bodies?” Brant asked curiously.

  “I only have this one.”

  Brant licked his lips. “Are you…a believer?”

  Rashnu smiled. “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  Rashnu shook his head. “I have a genetic condition that prevents duplication. Catherine has been kind
enough to help us.” He looked at Catherine. “You got it?”

  Catherine nodded and Sibéal gave a little clap of her hands and bounced on her bare toes once more. Even her toes were covered in the intricate circuitry designs. The detail was so rich that the overall impression was one of angular, delicate lace. Sibéal patted the top of the hard case that she had placed on the nearest workbench.

  “Do you need help installing it?” Catherine asked her.

  Sibéal shook her head. “Design the regulator, my skill is not. Not. But install, yes, yes. I have learned.”

  Brant caught Catherine’s elbow. “Can I…could I speak to you for a moment? In private?”

  Catherine excused herself and let Brant pull her over closer to the wall, between a bench holding a chemical still that bubbled steam and a low table with another screen on it that was apparently used for entertainment, for there was a hammock chair in front of it.

  Brant was frowning. “The thing in the hard case. It’s some sort of regulator?”

  “Yes.”

  He licked his lips, glancing over to where Sibéal stood watching them. Rashnu was staring at the hard case with a peculiar intensity.

  “She’s going to put it inside him, isn’t she? To regulate his heart beat.”

  Catherine could feel the tension between her shoulder blade and her own heart thudded. Caution flooded her. “Without intervention, he’ll die…and soon.”

  “He’s going to have a mechanical device inside his body!” Brant said furiously, his voice low and hard.

  “That’s right. We’re privateers, Brant. We don’t always stay on the right side of the law.”

  “It’s not a law, it’s proscribed.” The intensity of his voice was almost painful, but he hadn’t raised it. He was still speaking so that Sibéal and her husband couldn’t hear.

  It was what it was. “Only in your eyes is this wicked, Brant. For everyone else, it’s a life-saving solution.”

  “You didn’t for one moment think I might have objections to being involved in such business?” Even the lines around his mouth were white now.

  Catherine crossed her arms. “No. I didn’t,” she said flatly. “You believe in the utter sanctity of the human race, Brant. I believe in the supremacy of life. All life. Rashnu deserves to live as long as he can because he is a life just like you and me.”