Archangel Project 2: Noa's Ark

by C. Gockel

  Noa lowered her stunner, every muscle in her body softening. “Of course.”

  “Come out, Zoe,” Monica said, eyes still on the stunner, hands still in the air.

  A little girl came out of a hole in the wall. Her hair was tied back in a messy braid, and her fine clothes were stained. James estimated that she could be no more than eight or nine. Her deep brown eyes were wet, as though she’d been crying. They darted between James and Noa. She came forward cautiously, raising her hands in imitation of her mother.

  “You can put your hands down,” Noa said, sitting down on her heels so she was at eye level with the child. Static flared along James’s skin. Noa’s eyes on the child told him he would not be escaping from Monica anytime soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Noa walked beside Monica through the port on her way to the Ark. In her visual cortex, a light was pinging, reminding her that she was now an hour late for her cryssallis treatment. She turned it off. Again. James was on her other side, hanging back as Monica told her story. Monica’s husband was a lawyer who worked for C Corp; he had been stationed at Luddeccea’s capital, Prime, working out the details of C Corp’s expansion on the planet. When Time Gate 8 was sabotaged, Monica and Zoe were in the process of relocating to Libertas to be closer to him. Her husband had insisted his wife and child live on Libertas where off-worlders were more welcome. Monica told them, “I didn’t believe that Libertas 1.25 g, frigid temperatures, and low oxygen would be worth the daily lightspeed commute … but …” She’d stopped talking at that point and had wiped her eyes.

  Despite being furious at Monica for bringing up James’s medical death, Noa could identify with the doctor. Monica’s husband was “missing.” Noa knew the sickening feelings of dread she must be carrying with every step.

  According to Monica, her charter ship had just slipped through Time Gate 8 when an explosion went off inside the gate. Luddeccean forces had immediately attacked all vessels coming and going, and their ship narrowly missed being destroyed. The captain had jumped to lightspeed with little concern for trajectory other than not hitting anything. Minutes later, the engines had begun to fail due to damage they’d sustained. The pilot managed to drift into the belt, and somehow had known about Adam’s Station.

  “The captain of the ship we chartered to Libertas is letting us stay with him,” Monica said. “While the ship is being repaired.”

  “He’s a good pilot,” Noa said; he would have had to have been. “And it was stand up of him to let you stay aboard.”

  Patting Zoe’s shoulder, Monica said tightly, “He’s a good pilot.” The abridgment of the praise didn’t escape Noa’s notice.

  Noa’s eyes flicked to Monica. She gave Noa a tight smile. “Libertas Credits are still worth something here—not much—but something. My money is repairing the ship. But … I think …” She gazed up at James; her eyes were wide, imploring. James’s looked away.

  Monica turned back to Noa. “I could give those credits to you … in exchange for passage to Libertas. It's taking too long to repair the chartered vessel.”

  Tugging on her mother’s jacket, Zoe said, “Momma, I’m hungry.”

  Noa’s heart fell, and she closed her eyes.

  Putting her hand on her daughter’s head, Monica said quickly, “It’s been a while since I practiced surgery. But I have done it, I have practical experience, and I kept all of my surgical atlas apps as mementos. I can be useful.”

  They did need a surgeon …

  James’s mind connected again with Noa’s. “But she thinks we’re going to Libertas. She won’t be interested if she knew where we’re really going.” There was something … abrupt in his thoughts ... a too-easy dismissal. But he was right. Of course Monica thought they were going to Libertas. It was the only sensible destination, now that Luddeccea wasn’t accepting visitors.

  “I have to get to Libertas,” Monica said. “My husband is looking for us.”

  “You’ve heard from your husband via lightbeam?” Noa asked.

  “No …” Monica’s eyes scanned the floor, and then she looked sharply at Noa. “But he was going to meet us on Libertas as soon as work was over that day. He is there, he has to be.”

  Noa felt a sickening sensation in her stomach. The Luddeccean defense grid had been shooting down all ships trying to leave Luddeccea, making it very unlikely that anyone who had been on Luddeccea had escaped. It was only because of Ghost’s magic—and the time gate’s interference—that the Ark had made it. But Noa couldn’t bring herself to disabuse Monica of the idea her husband might be alive. Especially not in front of her little girl.

  For a moment they walked in silence, approaching a craft that was blackened and scarred by phaser fire. One of the thrusters had been removed and taken apart. Pieces of it lay across the dock. A boy as silent as a wraith picked up a piece and darted quietly up a ladder that went into the ship.

  Noa cocked her head. The ship, despite the damage, looked familiar.

  “You’ll take us?” Monica asked, her voice plaintive.

  “It’s too dangerous, Noa,” James thought.

  Noa stopped and turned to the woman, and then a voice rumbled, “Take you where?” The voice made the hairs on the back of Noa’s neck stand on end, and her hands ball into fists.

  “I …” Monica stammered, “… into the shopping district. I need new shoes.”

  “I can take you there,” said the man.

  Noa turned around. A man with long black hair pulled into a ponytail was approaching them. He was tall and lean, but broad shouldered. He was wiping his hands on a rag, but as soon as his eyes alighted on Noa, he stopped. “Commander Sato,” he said.

  “Wren,” Noa said.

  “Captain Wren,” he revised.

  Noa didn’t amend her statement.

  His features didn’t have the painful symmetry of “tasteful” augmentation that James and Monica had—which would have made him more handsome to Noa—except, she knew him.

  “You never did like me,” he said.

  Noa didn’t bother to amend that opinion either. She didn’t have time for his lizzar dung at the moment.

  Her eyes shifted to Monica. The woman was stroking her daughter’s head, eyes downcast. Noa wanted to invite her aboard the Ark; but she couldn’t do that unless she told her they weren’t really headed to Libertas. And if they told her that, she might accidentally leak the news, or they could be overheard, or she could be a spy even … There were a thousand different scenarios that all played out with Adam’s goons storming the ship.

  “We’ll think about it,” Noa said. “We’re quite full—”

  “Full of what?” said Wren.

  “Veterans of Six,” said Noa.

  “I’m a veteran of Six,” Wren said, with a leer.

  Noa’s skin heated, her jaw tightened, and her nails bit into her palms. I just never figured out whose side you were on was on the tip of Noa’s tongue. Instead she spit it across the ether at James, not even bothering to encrypt it, along with a colorful description of a lizzar in the throes of Xin-stomach flu.

  Rolling back on his feet at her mental onslaught, James raised an eyebrow. In a deadpan voice he said aloud, “I can see you’re good friends.”

  Which made Noa nearly choke on a snort. She felt her anger dissipate; she could deal with this low-life. “We’ve got two hundred well-seasoned, disciplined veterans of Six aboard our ship right now,” Noa said. “I’m sure some of them would be delighted to see you.” She canted her head and smiled brightly.

  Wren’s smile dropped.

  From behind Noa, in the direction of the Ark, came 6T9’s voice. “Noa, there you are!”

  Wren’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shot up, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Is this one of your veterans now?”

  Beside Noa, James pinched the bridge of his nose. Across the ether, he said, “I’m afraid to look.”

  Noa was, too. She bit her lip and spoke into James’s mind. “How bad can it be?�
�

  Wren snickered.

  James’s blue eyes slid to Noa’s. He took a deep breath as though he were about to walk the plank. They turned as one.

  “Well, it couldn’t be worse,” James thought.

  Monica made a choking noise.

  Noa sucked in a breath that physically stung. 6T9 was wearing hot pink pants, purple sparkly boots, and a skin tight black t-shirt that said in neon green letters, “I’m with sexy.” An arrow in the same neon green pointed up at Sixty’s face and blinked on and off.

  Wren walked up beside Noa and whispered, “So that’s your type, Noa?”

  “He belongs to someone in my crew,” Noa responded, and then mentally kicked herself for dignifying the question with a response.

  “Uh-huh,” said Wren.

  6T9 strode over and waggled his eyebrows. “Do you like the clothes? Eliza traded an apple for them. In for a penny, in for a pound, I always say.”

  “She paid too much,” James said.

  Monica laughed softly, a short, surprised sound that made Noa uneasy.

  Noa ground out, “What are you doing here, 6T9?”

  He smiled. “Oh, I’m here to remind you that you need your cryssallis treatment. Eliza said to drag you bodily if I had to, and Manuel agreed.” His face got stern. “And I don’t mean drag you in a fun way.”

  “Two ship's surgeons,” Monica whispered, sounding deflated.

  “Oh, no,” said 6T9. “Eliza is a passenger and Manuel is the chief engineer. Our ship’s doctor is dead. I would really like another ship’s doctor, Eliza is—”

  “Um, Sixty,” Noa said.

  “Commander?” said the ‘bot, smiling and looking at her intently.

  James's eyes narrowed and slid to hers. Over the ether, James's thoughts rushed in a torrent. “How late are you for your treatment?”

  “Only a few hours,” Noa silently responded.

  The channel between them went silent, and then a flood of electrons exploded across the ether. His jaw twitched.

  Smirking at 6T9, Wren said, “This veteran of yours has a lot of seasoning, but is he disciplined?”

  “I’m sure he has an app for it,” James remarked, but his eyes were still on Noa.

  “Indeed!” 6T9 said brightly.

  “We have to get back to the ship,” Noa said. She nodded at Monica, and spoke to James through the ether. “Tell her we’ll be in touch.” He knew Monica. He had to have access to her channel.

  James looked away and tugged Noa—gently—toward the Ark’s plastitube lift. She squinted; to the left of the plastitube were large crates on a forklift, with men and women in coveralls running around. There was no one in the forklift’s driver seat.

  “The new scanner Ghost was talking about,” James whispered.

  Noa blinked at the certainty of his tone. That could be it …

  They took two steps and Noa remembered something she had in her pocket. “Wait!”

  James didn’t wait, but Noa managed to pull out her last bag of Premium Luddeccean Natural Snacks and throw it to Zoe. The little girl caught it mid-air.

  “Thank you!” Monica said, with real gratitude in her voice: for the organic nuts, raisins, and chocolate, or for the promise to be in touch, Noa wasn’t quite sure.

  Smirking, Wren called out, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around!”

  Noa gritted her teeth. She believed him, unfortunately.

  * * *

  James felt an overwhelming sense of relief when the Ark’s airlock closed behind 6T9, Noa, and him; and the smell of asteroid dust, grease, and engine parts was replaced by the smell of Luddeccean tourists and sunlight. But he still felt as though his muscles were prepared for fight or flight. It was Monica’s fault, and he couldn’t say why. He thought he had managed to play off his unease on the dock. Humor was an amazing defensive weapon.

  6T9 whistled as he walked out of the airlock. Noa closed the door behind him, so it was just her and James in the small space. Noa touched her neural interface and transmitted over the general frequency, “Manuel, Gunny, Ghost … Captain Wren has his latest boat parked on Adam’s Station.”

  Gunny’s thoughts were an undecipherable hiss.

  Across the ether, Manuel said, “Wonder who he’s working for now?”

  And Ghost snapped, “I can’t investigate until they move that stupid scanner! The techs have finished their diagnostics and turned it on again … I haven’t been able to keep the read-outs steady and they’re suspicious. Commander, we need to leave!”

  “I’m not arguing with you there, Ghost,” Noa replied across the ether. “As soon as we get the time band in and charge dispersers loaded—”

  “What about the toilet goop?” said Kuin.

  Noa’s eyes narrowed.

  “I have to share a bathroom with Bo and Jun now and both of them miss the—”

  His thoughts ended midstream. James blinked. Ghost said, “I turned Kuin off for you, Commander.”

  “Thank you, Ghost,” Noa said, rubbing her temple. Aloud she grumbled, “Civilians.”

  Over the ether, Ghost said, “I have to go … but I can’t keep this up much longer. Damn it, they’re trying to scan for weapons now.” His channel winked out.

  James’s hand trembled. Maybe he could help Ghost … If he could access ethernet codes, could he learn to change data read-outs, like Ghost did? He felt a fizzle of static along his spine. Working with Ghost would mean admitting he could access the ether …

  Over the shared lines, Manuel said, “I don’t like Wren being here.”

  James had scanned Wren’s and Monica’s ether. He knew Monica’s channel from his previous life, and breaking into it had been especially easy, but he hadn’t needed to spy on her. Monica had spent the whole time trying to ping him. He’d pretended not to hear. From Wren, he’d heard only thoughts directed at the boy who’d been darting about beneath the ship: requests for part counts, and “get your butt back in the ship while I talk to these people.”

  “Why don't you trust Wren?” he asked across the general channel.

  Noa looked up at him sharply. It was Manuel who responded. “He was a double agent during the Six War.”

  “But he was your—the Fleet’s—double agent?” James tried to clarify.

  “Who knows,” said Manuel, and James remembered Noa’s thoughts. I just never figured out whose side you were on.

  James looked to Noa for explanation. She shrugged. “Spies are usually psychopaths, double agents even more so. You can never trust them.”

  James bowed his head. He felt electricity crawling all over his skin. He was a spy, wasn’t he? Or at least spying on people over the ether. His vision went dark around the edges. He didn’t want Noa to know that. He couldn’t offer to help Ghost, not unless the situation got very dire, because … because …

  “Hey,” Noa said, taking a step toward him.

  James looked up, and realized nearly thirty seconds had gone by in complete ether and audible silence.

  Noa took his hand. “It was a rough day, but we made it.”

  She took a breath, and he heard the faintest hint of a rasp in it. His vision darkened. He knew he should kiss her … and he wanted to … but couldn't. He felt something in him stutter at the thought, like his nanos and neurons were shutting down. And then Noa put her fingers on James’s lips. They were small, calloused, and cool—and there were only three of them. Her dark eyes met his.

  “My lips ...” He wrapped her fingers in his.

  “Can’t show emotion,” Noa said. She smiled wryly. “Thank God they still allow you to eat.”

  Relief, gratitude, and a feeling of connection flooded him like sunlight spilling through the door of the mindscape she'd shared with him. They were both broken physically and emotionally.

  He pulled her scarred hand to his chest, and wrapped his other hand around her back, pulling her flush against him. It wasn’t close enough. He dropped his forehead against hers, closed his eyes … and heard her breath, raspy and s
ick. His world darkened again, and he squeezed her fingers. “Noa,” he sighed, knowing he was destroying the moment. “Don’t die on me. Go take your medicine.”

  Noa leaned back. The wan light caught the scars on her face just right, making them look like tiny bolts of lightning etched on her skin. Her eyes were narrowed, but she was smiling.

  The airlock whooshed open, and Noa pulled away.

  Manuel was standing in the doorway with Eliza leaning on 6T9’s arm. Eliza had the plastic mask for Noa’s treatment in one hand.

  Noa cried, “You went into my cabin!”

  “Yes,” said Eliza, unwinding a length of plastic tubing attached to the mask.

  Over the ether, Noa grumbled, “This isn’t how a crew is supposed to treat their commander.”

  Manuel held up his hands. “I had nothing to do with it.”

  Angry at himself for not sending her directly to her cabin for said treatment, James countered, “Technically, Eliza and 6T9 are passengers.”

  Noa’s head whipped in his direction like an adder.

  He looked up at the dim lighting. “I’m not crew either.”

  “Whose side are you on?” she asked him.

  A line from an old 20th century movie popped into his head. “Your side always, darling,” he whispered over the ether and was surprised that it didn’t feel like flirting.

  Noa smiled and then blinked madly as Eliza thrust the mask for the cryssallis treatment over her nose and mouth.

  “Done!” cried Eliza. “If you can’t take care of yourself …” The old woman panted. “I’ll take care of you.”

  There was a soft hiss as the medical vapors began to flow. Noa scowled at the old woman but she didn’t remove the mask.

  “Commander,” Manuel said. “You, Gunny, Ghost, Chavez, and I are the only people with extensive experience in zero g. I was hoping you’d help us thread it into the hull—especially with Ghost busy …” His voice trailed off.

  Noa nodded behind the mask.

  “Great,” Manuel said. “We should meet with Bo and Kuin down in engineering.”

  Noa nodded, and headed out the airlock’s inner door, down the hall and into the lift.