The Disk Mirror Solution (Galaxia Mortem Book 1)

by Danielle Ste. Just

  After her shift the next day, Armintor ran to the Beta cafeteria and waited for Sikayla. They walked toward the barracks together. Armintor pulled two cookies out of her pocket and gave one to her friend. They ate the cookies as they walked. They tasted caramelly-sweet. Just like friendship.

  “You’re one of the offworlders, right?” Sikayla asked, licking her fingers. Whenever she spoke, a tiny dimple appeared beside her mouth.

  Armintor nodded.

  “Those plague offworlders?”

  Armintor nodded again.

  “I’m an offworlder too. I’m a nonnie, you know. I can’t get any implants.”

  “Really?” Armintor had never met a nonnie before. “Why?”

  Sikayla gave a wry smile. “I have an allergic reaction to some of the metals in cranial embeds. I’d die if I got one. When my parents died, I got sent to Variegor. But I got here a long time ago. When I was five. So no one’s mad at me. But they’re all mad at you plaguers. You shouldn’t let anyone else know you’re a plaguer. If you can.”

  All around them, Betas hurried to work, or walked listlessly back to their barrack. Alphas rode past in skimmers, or promenaded down the walkways looking pleased with themselves.

  “Why can’t I let anyone know?” Armintor asked.

  “All this trouble your offworlder Alphas are causing.”

  Sikayla was saying the same thing Dil and Josie had. “What did you hear?” Armintor asked. “What trouble?’

  Sikayla grabbed her hand and pulled. “Come with me.”

  Armintor followed Sikayla down a narrow pathway between two buildings. They emerged into a tree-filled courtyard. Leaves rustled in the evening breeze. In one corner, a fountain burbled, lit by an underwater light source. Alphas strolled in small groups between the plantings.

  Armintor hissed and backed away, but Sikayla refused to release her hand. “If we sit quiet in the corner, they don’t bother us.”

  Heart pounding, Armintor allowed Sikayla to pull her down a pathway and push her onto a bench almost completely hidden beneath a feathery tree.

  “Why are we here?” Armintor whispered. “We’re going to get killed!”

  “I told you,” Sikayla whispered, peering between the branches, “if we just sit on the benches they don’t bother us.”

  A pair of Alphas approached. Armintor lowered her voice even more. “But what are we doing here?”

  Sikayla bent close and whispered in Armintor’s ear as the Alphas walked right past them. “They’re so used to ignoring us. Sometimes you can hear things.”

  Armintor drew back and studied Sikayla. The set of her jaw, the proud posture of her shoulders, the assured mien reminded her of something. Who? Someone from Variegor? Or Terry’s New Earth? Memories of her parents’ crumbling bodies filled her mind. As the familiar aching grief threatened to overwhelm her again, she blurted out the first thing in her head. “You remind me of an Alpha. Why are you a Beta?”

  Sikayla smirked and threw herself back against the bench. “I don’t know either. I think I’m going to be chosen.”

  Chosen. That word again. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s when an Alpha chooses a Beta. Kind of to be their servant. And sometimes their Betas get retested.”

  Armintor clutched Sikayla’s arm. “Retested? You mean to see if they’re Alphas? You can change?” So it was possible. She, Armintor, could be retested, could become an Alpha. Could take terrible vengeance on Dil, and Josie, and everyone else who’d made her suffer.

  Sikayla shrugged. “I don’t know. You can change, maybe. Or maybe we were never Betas in the first place. I’m an Alpha is all I know.”

  “And what happens if you fail the test? If you’re still a Beta?”

  Sikayla shrugged again. “You’re culled, I guess.”

  “And what’s—”

  “Be quiet!” Sikayla hissed. And as Armintor watched, she melted into herself, grew meek and submissive. In front of Armintor’s eyes, Sikayla became a Beta.

  A group of Alphas walked down the path on the other side of the feathery tree, barely a meter away.

  “…been delayed again?” someone was asking in a querulous voice. “My Beta’s getting too old. I need to trade it for a new one.”

  A second voice laughed. “I don’t think you’re getting a new one this year, Kizlerga.”

  “Why not?” Kizlerga demanded.

  “It’s been canceled. Didn’t you hear?”

  “Why?”

  “It’s because of these damnable plaguers and their demands.” The voices faded into a murmur as the group moved out of hearing range.

  “Did you hear what they were saying?” Sikayla hissed in Armintor’s ear. She was back to her usual, confident self.

  Armintor nodded. “But what about the Alpha plaguers? What are they demanding?”

  “Not sure exactly. But they’ve made everyone angry.”

  “And what’s culling?” Armintor asked. “It sounds worse than choosing.”

  “No one knows, really. You just disappear. Now everyone’s saying that there’re going to be more cullings this year. So that’s why I’m saying don’t tell anyone you’re a plaguer.”

  Armintor let the sweet night air waft over her as she considered the ramifications. So to protect herself, she couldn’t continue to be classified as a plaguer. She had to get transferred to the university. To be known as something other than a subdamaged Beta. To be recognized for her mind. She couldn’t waste any more time.

  Chapter 8

  Variegor

  Date: 2412

  “Culling’s going to murfl mondsuf” Sikayla said around a massive bite of sandwich at lunch the next day.

  “I didn’t understand that last part,” Armintor said.

  Sikayla swallowed so large a mouthful her eyes bugged out. “I said, get ready for lots of Betas to disappear overnight.”

  “Why?”

  “The culling. Haven’t you been listening? It’s going to happen any day.”

  When Armintor started to say something Sikayla cut her off. “And before you ask again, no one knows what happens. Betas just disappear.” Sikayla crammed the rest of the sandwich in her mouth.

  Armintor ran back to work. She had to put her plan into action. If she were seen as important enough to be transferred to the university, maybe she wouldn’t be culled. She hurried through two loads of dishes, timing her mecha’s cycles so that she had a free ten minutes at exactly the time her supervisor walked through the kitchen for her afternoon inspection. As the older Beta woman walked past, looking harried and exhausted as usual, Armintor jumped in her path.

  “I—” she started.

  “What do you want this time?” Her supervisor regarded her with a narrow, bitter expression. “Dishwashing too hard for you now?”

  Armintor took a step backward. “No, I… haven’t you noticed I’ve been doing such a good job lately?”

  “No.” Her supervisor spoke with blunt finality.

  “But I’ve been working so hard.” Armintor hated the pleading in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. “You haven’t noticed?”

  “Why would anyone notice if you do your job?”

  “But I’ve been…” Armintor forced herself to stop. That wasn’t important right now. “I was thinking I want to be transferred to the university.”

  The woman rolled her protruding eyes. “Oh, you thought that, did you?”

  Armintor stepped forward to grab her supervisor’s forearm, but at the last moment didn’t dare. “It’s… it’s a better place for me.”

  Her supervisor shook her head slowly and exaggeratedly, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You too good for this place?”

  “No,” Armintor said. But she had been saying that. She looked around, saw disdain and hostility in the eyes of the other Betas. She hunched away from their stares. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  Her supervisor lunged closer. Her breath stank of something rotten. “Just do your job.
Don’t talk to me.” She turned and walked away.

  Tears of mortification, anger and frustration rolled down Armintor’s cheeks. Her dishwasher started beeping. She mashed her finger on the button to quiet it and stood, hands on the mecha’s corners, head bowed. But she couldn’t give up. There was no possibility that she could spend her life standing in front of a dishwasher. She had to be able to be transferred. She wasn’t confident like Sikayla. She had to impress Alphas with her mind.

  Her dishwasher started beeping again. She opened it with a jerk and unloaded the dishes, hardly feeling her fingers burn from the too-hot plates. Her shift seemed to encompass a lifetime, but finally it ended. She grabbed two brownies and stuck them in her pocket, not bothering to hide her theft, and walked out into the fading light of sunset. Sikayla was waiting for her. It was the first time her friend had come to see her instead of the other way around. She breathed deeply for the first time all day.

  Sikayla smiled, showing the small dimple on her left cheek near her mouth. She stretched out her arm, wiggled her fingers. Armintor grabbed her hand.

  “What’d you bring us?” Sikayla asked. “Some of those brownies again?”

  When Armintor took them out of her pocket, she was rewarded with a sweet smile.

  They went back to the same park with the fountain, and sat underneath what Armintor was already considering their tree. Other than two Betas sharing another bench, the courtyard was empty. As if all the Alphas had someplace better to be that evening.

  Sikayla leaned back and braced her arms on the edge of the bench. “What do you want to do with your life?”

  Armintor almost laughed. She’d had dreams before Variegor. She’d wanted to be a programmer. Write slick licks. Have a job in the Underworld. But that dream was dead. She didn’t have a tie-in socket or a cranial embed. Even if she did, there weren’t any tie-in jacks on Variegor. There wasn’t even an information sphere. “I don’t know anymore.”

  “Well, I know what I want to do. Whatever I want, whenever I want, with whoever I want.”

  Those words sounded so naïve that Armintor almost laughed. But she didn’t want to offend her friend. “Does anyone really get that?” she asked, trying to keep her voice gentle.

  Sikayla gave her a sharp look. “Some.” Then she smiled. “I’ll get it for both of us. You wait and see. When I get retested as an Alpha, I’ll choose you as my assistant.”

  And even as sore as Armintor’s heart felt, it leapt with desperate hope. She grinned. “Okay. And then you’ll retest me, and I’ll become an Alpha too.”

  They listened to the water splash in the fountain. Time passed, but seemed to do so kindly, as if stretching itself out into an endless moment. Armintor felt her shoulders easing for what seemed like the first time since the attack in the bathroom. She no longer felt afraid. Even if Dil and Josie tracked her down here, she and Sikayla would be able to handle them together.

  Sikayla touched her shoulder. “Let’s go. Curfew’s soon.”

  Armintor looked around. The other Betas had left. Stars twinkled in the sky. The night air felt silent and still. “Just one more minute.”

  When Sikayla grinned and ruffled Armintor’s hair, Armintor leaned into the touch, turning her head to kiss the soft crease of her wrist. Sikayla’s eyes glinted in the dark as she leaned close. Their lips met. Soft, yet hard. Yielding, yet unyielding.

  “What are you doing here past curfew?” An Alpha stood in front of them, a shadowy, stocky figure, legs planted wide.

  Sikayla jumped to her feet, half-shielding Armintor. “We aren’t past curfew. There’s still ten minutes.”

  “I’m sorry,” Armintor whispered, “we’re leaving right now.” She stood and pulled her friend’s arm.

  But Sikayla pulled away. Unlike last night, she hadn’t switched into Beta mode. She raised her chin in defiance. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

  The Alpha drew his agony stick. “Did you just talk back to me?”

  “It’ll be you who makes us late for curfew if you use that,” Sikayla said.

  The Alpha raised the agony stick high overhead. Armintor stumbled backward and fell onto the bench. She was going to die. Sikayla had killed them with her bravery. With her foolishness.

  But unlike Armintor, Sikayla stood tall, proud, unflinching. The Alpha stopped the agony stick mid-swing. He stared at Sikayla hard for a moment, then laughed. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Not even scared. Where do you work?”

  Sikayla raised her chin. “The cafeteria on Heroika.”

  “Heroika. I’ll remember that. Now get back to your quarters.”

  Armintor looked from the Alpha to her foolhardy friend and back again. She couldn’t believe he was really letting them go. She stood hesitantly, expecting him to swing the agony stick at her legs, to topple her to the ground, to kill her like an unloved animal. But he just jerked his head at the garden entrance. “Get out of here.”

  Sikayla grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the park. They ran through the almost-empty streets hand in hand until Armintor pulled to a stop. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she couldn’t tell if it was from terror or exultation. She pressed her hand to her chest. “Why did you talk back? I thought he was going to kill us.”

  Sikayla grinned. “I always knew it. I was right. You can’t be afraid of them. If you think you’re as good as they are, they treat you like an Alpha.”

  “I could never have done what you did.”

  Sikayla grabbed her hand again. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.”

  At the barracks they parted with a hurried wave. Just as she reached the door of her own barrack, the lights went out. She had to stumble in the dark to her three-stack. Still riding high on adrenaline, she barely cared when she stepped on Dil’s hand getting into her bunk. Even Dil and Josie’s hissed insults didn’t frighten her. If they tried anything again, she and Sikayla would punish them.

  For the first time in she didn’t remember how long, she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.

  When she arrived at work the next morning, the dishwasher to her left stood unattended. The woman at the one to her right answered Armintor’s unasked question. “He’s been culled.”

  “But what’s…” The woman turned her back on Armintor and lifted a stack of dirty plates. After Armintor had said she wanted to be transferred yesterday, the other Betas had started ignoring her. She was an outcast at work and in the barrack. But she had a secret weapon: her fierce friend’s bravery.

  A few minutes passed before Armintor glanced at the unattended dishwasher again. An uneasy thought occurred to her. The young man who’d worked to her left had been tall and muscled, with a loud laugh. Aggressive, for a Beta.

  Aggressive, just like Sikayla.

  Josie’s words from a few days ago repeated in her mind. I heard it’s the more aggressive Betas that get culled. Armintor had never met a more aggressive Beta than Sikayla. Fear cramped her belly. She wanted to run straight to the cafeteria on Heroika. Only the fear of death kept her at her station. She despised each chostim-stained cup, each smeared plate, every dirty tine on every fork.

  When her midday break came, she ran to the cafeteria. Their accustomed table was empty. Dizziness swirled her vision. Sikayla couldn’t have been taken away from her, just as they’d found each other. She ran into the kitchen, ignoring the mild protests from the other Betas.

  “Sikayla!” she shouted. But her friend didn’t answer.

  The Alpha’s words last night replayed in her mind. You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? I’ll remember that.

  Armintor grabbed the nearest Beta’s arm. “Where is she?” He shook his head and backed away.

  Her afternoon shift was an agony of alternating hope and despair. As soon as her shift ended, she ran to Sikayla’s barrack. Her friend’s bunk—the bottom of a three-stack right near the front door—was empty. The bedding had been stripped.

  Armintor grabbed the shoulders of the young girl, barely ten years old, s
itting on the opposite bunk. “Where is she?” She could feel the bones of the girl’s shoulders sharp and pitiful through the coverall.

  “I don’t know,” the girl whispered. She was pale, with wispy blond hair. “He came for her at dawn.”

  “Who? Who came for her?”

  “An Alpha.”

  Armintor drew in a ragged breath, collapsed onto the bunk beside the girl.

  “What’s wrong?” the girl whispered. “Do you need help?”

  “No.” Armintor didn’t even recognize the ragged, strained voice as her own. “No one can help me.”

  That night Armintor lay wide awake. Even Dil’s repeated kicking of her mattress from below barely registered in her consciousness. She finally understood. There wasn’t anything good in the universe that wouldn’t be taken away.

  Chapter 9

  Bituminous Tarsi

  Date: 2422

  When she got back home from the dremacave, Redcholate puddled onto her bed in the closet. An entire half hour had passed, and Sylvey hadn’t pinged her with Watson’s intel. Not that she was expecting a miracle, but ever since she’d hired Sylvey the low-grade pain in her cranium hadn’t gone away.

  She spent a few millis reprogging her holobeads for the final iteration of Beetle Week. Jewel beetles, wearing tiny pink tutus, standing on her braincase and dancing the minuet. Best for last, and all that.

  She idly pulled the tie-in jack in and out of its outlet, listening to the cord’s quiet whirring. It was stupo to lay around oxidizing. K, she couldn’t receive any intel from Sylvey in the Underworld, but that didn’t mean she had to wait here in the overworld while he worked. His ping’d reach her just as well over or under.

  Redcholate nodded once, pulled the tie-in jack from its outlet, and smeared it with jack sanitizer from her bedside tube. She threaded the cord through the slot in her mattress and plugged the jack into the socket behind her left ear.

  Take me under, she said to her OS.

  Nothing happened.

  Take me under, I said.

  I am attempting to, but it is not working.