Heart of the Nebula

by Joe Vasicek

  “James, are you there?” he said. The box in the corner with James’s face flashed out, then back on.

  “Here, Lars. Kyla, how are you doing?”

  “All right,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. She coughed and cleared her throat.

  “Don’t be afraid—I’m here to get you out, and Lars is here to help us. If you do as he says, everything will be just fine.”

  “That’s right,” said Lars. “We’ll have to plead guilty on the charges, of course, but they’re light enough that you shouldn’t have to be incarcerated for them—especially considering your age.”

  “What about child services?” she asked, hugging her knees to her chest.

  “That’s a little more complicated,” Lars said. “And frankly, that’s why we needed to hold this private meeting. James has applied for legal guardianship, but we need your consent in order to move forward with that process. Until we do, the judge is technically required to send you into the system once he lets you go. If James completes the application before he issues the conviction, however, we can request a stay.”

  “Basically, all we need is a thumbprint,” James said. “Is there a datapad device in that cell somewhere?”

  Kyla looked around, her heart thumping. There was a small slot on the corner of the wall screen. She stood up and pressed it, and a keypad slid out along with a tiny access pad. The keys were worn smooth, and the pad itself was cracked, but judging from the green lights on the sides it seemed to be working.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Got it.”

  “Good. Now, I’m going to send you the document. After you scroll to the bottom of it, I need you to press your thumb against the datapad to indicate that you agree. Can you do that?”

  “Yeah.”

  Lars’s face minimized to a box in the corner directly below James, and the main screen flashed white with a long, wordy document. Kyla squinted as she tried to read, but beyond the first sentence or two, she couldn’t make any sense of it.

  “Do you understand what it says?” James asked. “It’s important that you understand before you sign.”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  He sighed. “All right. Lars, what should we do?”

  “Not a problem,” said Lars. “If Kyla accepts me as legal counsel, I can explain the particulars of the application to her, and she can indicate her acceptance of them based on that.”

  “Very well. Kyla, do you accept Lars as your legal counsel?”

  “I-I guess,” Kyla stammered. Things were moving so fast, it was hard to keep up with it all, especially after spending the last twenty-four hours sitting alone with her thoughts.

  “For the record, we need a clear ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

  “Then yes.”

  “All right,” said Lars, bringing his hands beneath his chin. “Legal guardianship means that James will be responsible for the protection of your personal and property rights, as well as providing for your basic material needs. Since you are sixteen, though, you’re old enough to find gainful employment, vote in the General Assembly, and manage your own property. You are also able to enter into your own contracts, provided that James cosigns. So really, guardianship is more of a legal formality than anything.”

  “Will I get out of child services if I agree?”

  “Of course. That’s the main reason James is doing this for you. And you’ll still have a basic level of independence until you turn eighteen, at which point you’ll have full independence.”

  “What about housing? Where will I live?”

  “My parents have some spare room in their apartment,” said James. “I’ve talked with them, and they’re willing to let you stay there. After you turn eighteen, there’s a subsidy program that can help you find housing on your own.”

  Kyla nodded and took a deep breath. She lifted her thumb to the cracked datapad, but hesitated before following through.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

  “Because I swore an oath to serve and protect the people of the colony, and that includes you,” James answered.

  “You told us that you wanted a chance to start over,” Lars added. “We’re in a position to help you get that chance.”

  All right, Kyla thought to herself. But how can I possibly repay this?

  Her arms and legs numb, she pressed her thumb against the datapad and rolled it slightly to get a firm print. The lights on the panel blinked red, then green, and the document disappeared. Lars’s face returned to the main screen.

  “Very good,” he said. “James, did you receive her imprint?”

  “I did. Submitting the documents now.”

  “Excellent. Let’s return to the court then, shall we?”

  Before Kyla could answer, Lars’s face minimized again, and the main screen flashed back to the judge. He imposing face completely filled the screen, making Kyla jump.

  “This court is now in session,” he said. “Does the prisoner understand her rights?”

  He peered right at her, making her skin crawl.

  “I, uh—”

  “Besides the basic rights of life, liberty, and equal opportunity ensured by our constitution, and your civil and political rights granted by your citizenship, you have the right to a speedy trial by a jury of your peers, the right to protection against self-incrimination, and the right to competent legal counsel. Do you understand these rights as explained to you?”

  Kyla swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Very well. On the charges of trespassing on a privately owned starship, how does the prisoner plead?”

  “Guilty, your honor,” said Lars.

  Kyla’s heart leaped into her throat. What are you doing? she wanted to scream. Her head spun from all that was happening—all she wanted was to escape, but trapped in her cell with nowhere to hide, that was impossible.

  “Your honor, may I make a statement for the record?” James asked.

  The judge frowned. “You may proceed, Commander McCoy, but please keep your remarks brief.”

  “I will, your honor. As the head of security for the diplomatic mission that chartered the Freedom Star, I wish to state that the prisoner never posed a threat to us or the other passengers, nor do I believe that she intended to cause any material damage. After we apprehended her, she was both cooperative and non-violent. Based on this, I believe that the prisoner deserves a mitigated sentence.”

  “Duly noted, Commander. However, your statement contradicts the testimony of Captain Jarvis, which I cannot ignore.”

  Kyla’s stomach sank. There’s no way this is going to work. She felt torn between the need to lash out and the desire to curl up until all of this went away.

  “Your honor,” said Lars, “surely the prisoner’s young age should be taken into account. Is issuing a full sentence really the best way to rehabilitate her?”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you, Citizen Stewart, except that she has no legal guardian. Child services is already overburdened, and if I let her go, she will have to—”

  “That’s not true, your honor,” James interjected. “I have filed an application for legal guardianship of the prisoner. With your permission, I’d like to request a stay until the application has been processed.”

  The judge raised a gray eyebrow. “Is that so, Commander? You seem to have taken an unusual interest in the prisoner.”

  “Is that against the law?”

  “No, it is not.” He sighed. “Very well. The prisoner is hereby sentenced to one hundred and fifty hours of community service, with a temporary stay granting custody to the Commander until his application has been processed. The prisoner will be released as soon as you come to pick her up. This court is adjourned.”

  The screen flashed and went blank, leaving Kyla alone. Only then did she realize that her hands were shaking and her forehead was covered in sweat. Still, it had worked—she wasn’t going to child services. She fell to her knees and let the tears stream silently out. />
  I just want a chance to start over, she’d said on the Freedom Star. Well, now she had it. And just like Lars had said, how she used it was up to her.

  But she would never be truly free so long as she was under James’s debt.

  * * * * *

  “Hey, thanks for the help,” James said as he boarded the tram for the penitentiary with Lars. “I owe you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” said Lars. “It’s a very noble thing you’ve done. It’s good to know that at least some good came from the conference.”

  More than you know, James thought as the tram took off. He reached up and took hold of the bar over the seats. Most of them were empty, but he always preferred to stand; men of action never sat still longer than they had to.

  “Is something the matter, James?” Lars asked. “You seem a bit troubled.”

  James laughed. “Troubled? What makes you say that?”

  Lars looked at him funny for a second, then shook his head. “I don’t know, maybe it’s just me. I just haven’t been myself since the failure of the conference.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t a total failure. You just said so yourself.”

  The tram slowed down for a scheduled stop. The doors slid open, and a handful of other passengers got off. No one climbed on.

  “You didn’t happen to find out anything about the patrician’s daughter, did you?” Lars asked. “There’s been a lot of unusual political activity lately. I think it may be connected with her involvement in the mission.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, several of the centralist-aligned interest groups are starting to make what looks like preparations for a major PR campaign. The patrician has been a lot more withdrawn lately, too. Rumor has it that he’s about to launch some sort of initiative.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Whatever it is, it looks like it’s going to be big. The equalitarian watchdog groups are already gearing themselves up for a fight.”

  James frowned. “Why?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If they don’t know anything about it, why are they so eager to fight it?”

  “Because the patrician is behind this,” Lars answered, his eyes lighting up with passion. “It’s the elite, the top one percent, the guys who secretly pull all of the levers of power around this place. Or do you expect us all to fall into lockstep with everything he says?”

  “No, but—look, why do you always have to oppose him? Isn’t he right some of the time?”

  Lars grinned. “You’re not much into politics, are you? It’s all just part of the game.”

  James shook his head as the tram began to slow for the next stop. “It’s not a game if lives are on the line.”

  “On the contrary, James. A strong opposition is necessary for the preservation of liberty. By providing an alternative to the patrician and his policies, we offer the people a range of political options. You can’t have freedom without choice, my friend.”

  “But you don’t even know what he’s up to yet!”

  “And do you?”

  James drew a sharp breath just as the doors slid open. The few remaining people in the tram car got off, leaving them alone.

  “You’ve been up to something, James, haven’t you? You seem… changed somehow.”

  “In what way? What are you talking about?”

  Lars shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. But you’re my friend. I hope that we never let any secrets come between us.”

  His words made James cringe. Should I tell him? It wasn’t like the patrician’s plans would be secret much longer—or that Lars would never find out about his own involvement. But if he did tell Lars, he would risk destroying everything that Sara and the patrician were working for. He couldn’t do that—not when it represented the last real hope for survival that the Colony still possessed.

  “I hope so, too,” he said softly. More than you know.

  Chapter 12

  Kyla glanced nervously over her shoulder as she followed James down the dimly lit corridor. Drab rows of identical doors lined the walls, but there was no garbage, no mold growing on the bulkheads, no smell of urine in the air. This was not the lower decks where she’d lived for so long. This was the upper decks, where she absolutely didn’t belong.

  “My parents are excited to meet you,” James said, breaking the nervous silence that all but enveloped them. “It’s been a while since they’ve had any children at home, so I think they’re looking forward to having you move in.”

  Kyla said nothing.

  At length, they stopped at one of the doors. James entered the code on the keypad and palmed it open. The smell of something delicious wafted out from inside.

  “After you,” James said, motioning for Kyla to enter.

  She folded her arms tightly across her chest and stepped inside. Immediately, she was struck by how homey the place felt. A shaggy carpet covered the floors, with knitted covers for the couch pillows and homemade needlework hangings on the walls. She relaxed as she realized that this was not a rich home, but someplace much more humble and cozy. The apartment was clean and well-kept, but the couches were worn, the carpets old and faded.

  It’s like the apartment where mother and I used to live, she thought to herself. A lump rose in her throat—one that she quickly forced down.

  “Hello there, dear!” said a short middle-aged woman with graying hair and a dimpled smile. She gave Kyla a warm embrace. “Welcome to our home.”

  “Hello,” said a tall, broad-shouldered man with a balding head and squarish face. “You must be Kyla.” He extended his hand, which was clearly large enough to crush Kyla’s own. Thankfully, he was gentle with her as they shook.

  “Kyla,” said James, “this is my mother, Jessica, and my father, Adam.”

  “Come in, come in!” said the middle-aged woman, urging them into the kitchen. “You’re just in time—the casserole came out of the oven not a minute ago.”

  Kyla followed the others into the apartment’s cozy kitchen. The floors were made of ceramic tiles with a repeating floral pattern, and the short wall-folding table had a colorful tablecloth thrown over it, with a beautiful lace centerpiece. As they seated themselves around the table, Jessica pulled out the casserole dish with a pair of oven mitts and set it on the table.

  “Mom,” said James, “you have a serving bot that can bring the food out.”

  “Yes, dear, but we don’t need it for something as small as this. Better to conserve energy for those who need it more.”

  James rolled his eyes, but his mother seemed just as stubborn as he was—though a good deal sweeter, Kyla had to admit.

  Something feels weird about this place, she thought to herself, glancing tentatively about the room. What is it? It wasn’t that there was something wrong exactly, but it did make her feel uneasy in a way that she didn’t understand.

  James’s father pulled out four plates from one of the cupboard wall compartments and set them down, while James retrieved the glasses and eating utensils. He filled the glasses with water from a dispenser unit set inside the wall.

  “Ice?” he asked.

  It took Kyla a moment to realize he was talking to her. “No, thanks,” she said softly.

  “Now, let’s say grace,” said James’s mother after sitting down. She bowed her head and took Adam’s and Kyla’s hands in her own. James took Kyla’s other hand, and Adam took his, so that their arms formed a circle around the table.

  “Our Lord of Many Worlds,” James’s father began. “We thank thee for this bounty that thou hast provided for us this day, and ask that thou wilt bless it to nourish and strengthen our bodies. We also thank thee for our guest, Kyla, and pray that thy blessings will be upon her. Please help her to feel safe and welcome in our home, and for us to know how we can best take care of her needs. Amen.”

  Safe, Kyla realized. That’s why this place feels so weird. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt safe. It was as if she
had stepped into some sort of sanctuary.

  “So Kyla,” said Jessica as her husband served the food. “Tell us about yourself.”

  Kyla drew a sharp breath and glanced around the table. The others were all looking expectantly at her, which of course made her mind go blank.

  “Um, I’m sixteen…”

  “Standard years or local?” Adam asked.

  What’s the difference?

  “Standard, of course,” said James. “She’s not a child.”

  “It was worth asking,” Adam muttered as he handed Kyla a plate full of casserole.

  Kyla had never had food like this before. She poked at it a bit with her knife, testing it to see what it was made of. The top was brown and crispy, but the insides were gooey. There were freeze-dried beans sitting in some sort of gravy, with chunks that looked like synthetic meat. It smelled good, though, so she took a forkful and shoveled it into her mouth.

  “Did you grow up here on the Colony?” Jessica asked.

  “Yesh,” Kyla said between bites.

  “Where did you live before you came here?” Adam asked.

  Kyla forced down her food and took a drink of the water to wash it down. “Nowhere,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  Adam frowned. “Nowhere?”

  “Dear,” said Jessica, giving him a sharp look. She turned back to Kyla, and her face softened considerably.

  “James has told us all about you, dear, and we’re happy to let you stay with us. Did you know that we used to have a daughter?”

  Kyla perked up. “No.”

  “We did,” Jessica continued. “She was our second-oldest, just a little older than James. When she was your age, she signed up with another merchanter family as an apprentice astrogator. She always was very bright.”

  “Where is she?”

  Jessica’s face darkened, and she looked away.

  “When the Hameji came, they took her away,” said James. “She’s one of them now, the wife of—”