by S. H. Jucha
“An impulsive act?” replied Jessie, squinting one eye at Leonard, knowing his response fell far short of the truth.
“Jessie, ever since I met you, the last thing I would consider you to be is impulsive … hardheaded, demanding, a workaholic —”
“Yes, yes, point made, Leonard. I admit Rules’ story made me angry. It wasn’t another complaint to lodge against the Andropov family. It was a serious breach of the empath agreement compounded by a series of heinous trespasses against empaths. I think the days of registering complaints against the downside families are over, and it’s time to upend their political leverage over the domes and the JOS.”
“And that, Jessie, is what we call a hellacious fight, which Yohlin and I would be pleased to join. My suggestion, concerning Rules, is that you let us help the girl. We’ll keep her safe, train her as a spacer, and there’ll be no need to register her in our ships’ logs.”
Jessie reluctantly agreed to Leonard’s help and counted on his advice as to Yohlin’s opinion on the issue, and he brought the Pearl’s captain aboard the Spryte to meet Aurelia.
Tapping lightly on his cabin door, Jessie waited until he heard Aurelia call for him to enter. When he stepped inside, he signaled to her with a finger to his lips, and Aurelia winked an eye in acknowledgment. Then Jessie stood aside and waited for Leonard to take in the young girl who stood in front of him.
Leonard looked at Aurelia and then Jessie in consternation. “Captain Cinders, we were discussing someone fleeing the domes with a charge of murder over her head, and I was expecting someone more desperate looking like …”
“Like you or me, Captain Hastings,” Jessie finished.
“Well, yes.”
“But, the charge of murder applies nonetheless, Captain Hastings,” Aurelia declared.
“Not as I understand it, young lady. Let’s get this straight right now before you and I begin our association,” Leonard declared, settling his fists on his hips, a sure sign he was about to lecture a crew member. “You might have been responsible for Dimitri’s death, but, under the circumstances, we call that self-defense, not murder. So, I’ll hear no more of that.”
“Yes, Captain,” Aurelia replied sweetly.
“I just lectured you, Rules. Why are you smiling?”
“Your words and your emotions … they match,” Aurelia replied.
“Huh?”
“I’ll explain on the way to the Pearl, Captain Hastings.” Jessie said. Turning to Aurelia, Jessie added, “Gather up your gear, spacer. You’re transferring ship.”
“Aye, Captain,” Aurelia replied heartily, and Jessie and Leonard shared grins.
Aurelia picked up an oversized spacer’s duffel bag and said, “Captain Cinders, please inform Jeremy that I appreciate his generosity in sharing his extra clothing with me.”
“I will,” Jessie replied. The clothing wasn’t really extra. Jessie had ordered Jeremy to give up his skins, deck shoes, and coveralls, making the young navigator clean them thoroughly before bringing them to him. “I’ll replace your gear when we’re on the JOS, except for a pair of skins,” Jessie had told Jeremy.
“Only two of the three pairs, Captain?” Jeremy had asked.
“If I buy three, you get written up for your cabin’s condition, Jeremy. If I buy two, then you get a pass, this one time.”
“Two sounds fair, Captain,” Jeremy happily agreed, appreciating the opportunity to duck a reprimand in the ship’s log.
Leonard led the way down the main passageway, and they picked up Nate at the airlock. The second mate carried Jeremy’s vac suit gear.
Once on the YIPS arm, Jessie touched Aurelia’s arm, and she stopped and turned to face him. “Captain Hastings and I have determined it’s best that he introduces you to his crew. So, I’ll be saying goodbye for now,” Jessie said. He didn’t know what to expect from Aurelia but guessed at protestations, tears, or something of that nature.
Leonard cupped his fingers at Aurelia, and she handed off her duffel. Then she smiled at Jessie, before she threw her arms around his neck.
“I’ll always be grateful for your help, Captain Cinders,” Aurelia said softly in Jessie’s ear, “and I have no right to ask, but please see what you can do for my mother and my sister.” She gave Jessie a quick kiss on the cheek and was pleasantly surprised that the simple sentiment initiated a wave of embarrassment from him that passed through her. She laughed, as she released him, and hurried to catch up to Captain Hastings and retrieve her duffel.
When Aurelia glanced back, Jessie was disappearing up the Spryte’s gangway, and she thought: Why couldn’t you have been my father, Captain?
-8-
Harbour
In the early morning, before the rays of Crimsa touched the Belle, Harbour woke to the chimes of her comm unit. She washed quickly, gulped a hot drink, and munched on a small breakfast snack. Shrugging into a set of skins, she pinched the tiny activator near the base of her spine, and it snugged the skins tight, as it closed up the back. She finished by closing the calf and forearm activators and slipped on a pair of deck shoes, which would be needed on the JOS terminal arm.
Harbour examined herself in the polished metal of the cabin’s door. The skins were black with a silver motif that began at the sides of her neck and traveled along the shoulder lines to the wrists, up the insides of the arms, and down along the sides of the body to the ankles. She’d purchased two ordinary pairs of black skins on JOS, but one of the Belle’s artisans, Makana, insisted on decorating them. The lines of silver were delicate and drew the eye to their patterns, as they wandered along her body’s outline.
When Harbour had tried them on in front of her friend, she was aghast. “Makana, your work is gorgeous, but they accentuate the curves of my body. The effect is practically indecent.”
Makana had laughed at her, saying, “If I had your curves, Harbour, I would be parading them in front of every eligible man.”
Harbour had frowned at her friend, who chose to make a more persuasive argument. “Harbour, you are the defacto representative for the Belle’s residents. We need your appearance to make a statement, especially at these politically charged, monthly meetings.
Many meetings later, wearing her new skins, Harbour came to appreciate Makana’s words. The more obstinate men whom Harbour dealt with were willing to communicate with her in private. Standing in her company, their eyes wandered along the delicate silver filigree, and Harbour put her attractiveness to good use, pushing for additional considerations for the Belle’s residents. Those individuals who didn’t hear her requests soon realized, to their regret, how quickly they were dismissed.
Harbour tied her dark hair into a ponytail. The length was a luxury allowed by the Belle’s gravity. The old colony ship continued to spin, driven by its great engines, and deliver a 1g environment to the ship’s outer ring. Harbour threw on a thermal coat for the walk to the shuttle bay. The coat would be left onboard the shuttle once she reached the JOS. The orbital station produced an abundance of power, providing heat even to the terminal arms. The Belle could afford no such luxuries.
Striking the hatch actuator, Harbour slipped through the doorway before it was fully open and smacked it closed on the other side to preserve her cabin’s heat. It wasn’t cold enough to fog Harbour’s breath, but she could feel the chill, and she activated her coat’s seal, which closed from chest to throat, as she hurried through the narrow corridors to the launch bay.
The Honora Belle was the last colony ship launched from Earth. It wasn’t designed with the luxuries of the JOS and should have been abandoned more than two centuries ago. Yes, and we would have all left this ship to journey planetside if we’d have made our original destination. Instead, we were forced to accept this excuse of a planet with its volcanic attitude, Harbour thought with disgust.
Only the occasional early-rising tech or artisan passed Harbour in the nearly deserted corridors, but pleasantries were always exchanged. The Belle’s inhabitants were a tight, well-kni
t community, who occupied a minor portion of the ship’s cavernous volume. They depended on one another for the quality of their accommodations.
Empaths, artisans, engineers, and techs, who lived aboard the Belle and could earn coin, contributed a portion of their income to the colony ship’s general fund. The fund paid for the Belle’s upkeep of its generators, environmental systems, and stipends to residents who required support. This latter group was Pyre’s disenfranchised — those people, who for one reason or another, were unable to earn a living to pay for accommodations onboard the JOS.
Occasionally, Harbour received coin transfers into her general fund account from donors. The gifts were always accompanied by a comm call, the donors anxious to curry her favor. But not always, Harbour thought. There was one donor, who remained anonymous, and his gifts were as regular as Crimsa breaking the horizon, arriving in her account on the first of every month. The deposits weren’t eye-arresting, but, when you added the years of contributions, it was an incredible amount.
Harbour put aside thoughts of her mysterious benefactor, as she entered the launch bay and greeted her pilot, Danny Thompson. Every afternoon before the monthly meetings, the JOS commandant offered to send a shuttle for Harbour, knowing the Belle’s shuttle was long overdue for replacement. And, every time, Harbour graciously refused. She didn’t want to be beholden to the commandant, and, worse, she had no desire to be trapped aboard the JOS, unable to return to the Belle when she wished.
Harbour and Danny climbed aboard the shuttle, and she heard the steps of his prosthetics as he walked down the aisle after sealing the hatch. Like many of the Belle’s inhabitants, he was the victim of an accident. In Danny’s case, he lost both legs. His prosthetics meant the loss of his job, as a hull jockey, which required the dexterous use of four limbs to pilot the tiny vessel around the exterior of a ship under construction. Only forty-five, Danny sought work aboard the Belle, where he could afford to live on his reduced income as Harbour’s pilot.
“Ready, ma’am?” Danny asked deferentially, after he ensured she was strapped into her seat.
“Onward, Danny, the privileged await my company,” Harbour replied.
Danny grinned at her, but Harbour could feel his depression, which she knew stemmed from his sense of isolation. It was a common problem among many Belle residents, who had grown up on the JOS and led active lives that were cut short. Retirement aboard the colony ship required a period of adjustment, and the empaths did all they could to help.
Harbour had long been able to keep the emotions of others at arms-length until her gifts were needed, but, around her people, she kept her senses open to monitor their well-being. With clients, she used the trigger of holding their hands to allow a free flow of emotions between them.
The usual dings and clangs that accompanied Danny’s prelaunch preparations of the shuttle brought Harbour’s attention to the here and now. Everything onboard the Belle was old, and that included half of its inhabitants.
Residents did what they could to earn coin, taking menial jobs downside in the domes or working as artisans and selling their wares. But it was Harbour’s empaths who earned the majority of the ship’s coin. That income kept water in the tanks, purchased minerals for the hydroponics, reaction mass for the engines and generators, and hundreds of parts the engineers and techs required to keep the colony ship operational.
Clients paid dearly for the attention of the empaths. Fear, depression, anger, and haunted memories built over time and preyed on the human mind. Downsiders and stationers, who had the coin, sought out the empaths to ease their troubled minds. Occasionally, an employer sent an employee who managed a critical job for them. However they came to the Belle, Harbour’s empaths sat with them, sensed their emotional states, and delivered alternative states of mind.
Sitting with an empath required cooperation. The clients had to immerse themselves in their torture for the empaths to sense their mental state. Only then could the sensitive know what emotions to push. The method of helping another person wasn’t granted an empath at birth. The gift was, but it didn’t show until puberty. Someone had to instruct emerging empaths how to shield themselves from others, how to harness their powers, and how to direct that power only when access was granted.
All empaths were women. The genes, which had been identified as producing the sensitives’ capabilities, required the double-X chromosomes of females. The empaths were a minor portion of the population, but they were slowly growing or, perhaps, they were more easily discovered.
The first woman to lead the empaths had been named Harbour. Thereafter, whoever led them took the name of Harbour, and each Harbour chose her successor, who became the virtual head of the empaths and the protector of the Belle’s inhabitants. As a ship’s leader, every Harbour had been granted a seat on Pyre’s council, which was attended by the domes’ governor, the family heads, the commandant and his key people, and the preeminent captains.
Danny guided the shuttle onto the JOS terminal arm 4, gate 1 docking collar. Sam, the terminal arm manager, confirmed a solid seal, pumped air into the collar, and triggered the terminal side hatch open.
“Seal confirmed and air pressure at one hundred percent, Sam,” Danny replied.
“Welcome back, Danny. You have time for lunch later?” Sam asked.
“Sure do, Sam. Harbour’s given me a long list on this trip. It’ll take time for the vendors to prepare their packages and deliver them to the shuttle.”
“Your choice this time, Danny.”
“Julia’s at eleven hours.”
“Works for me. See you there.”
Harbour heard Danny announce that the docking was complete, and she ensured her deck shoes were firmly attached before she released her seat belt. Danny passed her in the aisle, a smile on his lips. Obviously, her extensive list of small supply items allowed Danny to visit with old friends and chat with the vendors. It was an opportunity for him to experience a slice of his old life.
As Harbour followed Danny to the exit hatch, she thought again about the circumstances of their shuttle. It was the last original Belle shuttle. Most of the colony ship’s many shuttles were lost establishing the first dome. Their engines were ruined by the heavy volcanic ash of Pyre. The past three hundred years had seen a huge improvement in the air quality, but it still wasn’t safe enough to send a shuttle through the atmosphere. During the build out of the first domes, several shuttles attempting to return from the planet failed to make space, with disastrous results.
The station’s terminal ring and its arms were constructed in concert with the establishment of the first domes. With only a quarter of the ring in place, crews built the structure that would house the El car. Above it, they constructed the housing unit for producing the El car’s diamond-thread cable.
Engineers used liquid-state benzene molecules, which consisted of rings of carbon atoms, to assemble into neat and orderly threads, which were merely three atoms across and thousands of times thinner than a strand of hair. The zigzagging arrangement of rings of carbon atoms in the shape of a triangular pyramid created a formation similar to diamonds. Then they wove the threads into ever-increasing sizes until they had the cable’s final thickness.
One of the last three Belle shuttles guided the end of a half-inch thick thread from the terminal arm down to the dome. With incredible risk, downside engineers locked onto the dangling thread and pulled it through the airlock opening at the top of a dome and anchored it to a spooling mechanism. Then, oh so carefully, engines wound the spool to pull increasing thicknesses of thread from the terminal arm. It took nineteen days for the El car’s cable to be anchored inside the dome.
The shuttle used to complete the cable delivery landed on Pyre and remained there. The engines were considered too unsafe to lift the ship. A decision was made by the Belle’s leaders that the final two shuttles couldn’t be risked. With more than two hundred engineers and techs in the domes, the only way back up was via the El car, which made its maiden v
oyage to the planet nine days later, arriving successfully in the dome with five courageous engineers aboard.
One day, we’ll lose our shuttle, Harbour thought. The general fund didn’t have enough to order a replacement, and she doubted a donor would step forward and rescue them. Then the Belle’s residents would be completely at the mercy of the JOS largesse, specifically that of the commandant.
Danny double-checked his telltales at the hatch. With them showing all green, he opened the shuttle hatch for Harbour. “Send the commandant and the family leaders my warmest regards, Harbour,” Danny said, his lips twisted in a desultory smile.
“And I’m sure you mean that with all your heart, Danny,” Harbour replied, chuckling. She sent a wave of warmth Danny’s way, and her pilot relaxed into the pleasant sensation.
Danny flew for Harbour for many reasons, and this was one of them. He couldn’t afford her prices, and she knew it, but it never stopped her from helping him.
Harbour left her thermal coat onboard the shuttle, and she joined the flow of people down the arm, a collection of spacers ending work schedules on the YIPS and individuals flowing to and from the Belle aboard JOS shuttles.
Harbour was easily recognizable, and people tended to give way to her, most due to fear and some out of respect. She joined the line for the capsule, but, when it arrived, several individuals in front of her stepped aside, and Harbour entered the capsule with a group of downsiders. She kept her senses tightly closed against their emotions.
There was no conversation, as the passengers locked themselves into positions, lights turned green, and the cap latched onto the ring. The transition device rotated, came to a halt, the lights turned white, and the passengers exited into the station’s main promenade.
When Harbour arrived at the conference, she took her usual place at the room’s centrally located, round table, which enabled egos to be placated. Harbour eased open her shields then slammed them shut. This isn’t going to be the usual petty, argumentative meeting, Harbour thought. Anger, violent anger, dominated the room. Harbour’s quick peek at the room’s emotional temperature told her the governor and several family heads were the source.