by Joe Vasicek
“Aaron, some slack.”
“Sorry,” he said. He rubbed his fingers to let out the line, and Isaac hastily locked the anchor to the bottom of his boot.
“There. Now, let’s get back to the ship.”
He tugged lightly on his own line and began to drift back toward the Medea. Aaron at least had the good sense to let out enough line so that he didn’t hold him back. It took a little while, but soon he was back with his hands firmly attached to the hull. The thud as his gloves hit the dark gray metal sounded sweeter than anything he’d ever heard.
“Okay, I’m back. Your turn, Aaron. Nice and gentle.”
The tug on the line practically ripped his legs out beneath him, but the grip through his gloves held. A short while later, Aaron landed, making an even louder thud.
“Okay, I’m on,” he said, his voice filled with relief.
“Great. Now let’s get inside.”
* * * * *
The recycled air of the Medea had never smelled sweeter to either of them. Aaron collapsed on the semi-circular lounge couch, while Isaac sat on the edge of his bunk. After all that had happened, he wanted nothing more than to shut everything out and take a long nap. First, though, they had to figure out what to do next, since now they’d lost all their cargo. They weren’t out of trouble yet, not by a long shot.
“Thanks for saving my life out there,” said Aaron. “I owe you one.”
“It was nothing. You would have done the same for me.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t the idiot who jumped without knowing how the suit worked. It wasn’t until I was careening through space that I realized I couldn’t even read the menus.”
Isaac chuckled. “Yeah, that was kind of dumb.”
“I’ve never felt so helpless. Stars, I should be dead right now.”
“Hey, if it weren’t for you, those soldiers would have killed us back on the ship. How did you manage to get them both? For a moment there, I thought for sure they’d shot you.”
“I have no idea how I did it. You gave me that look like you were about to do something crazy, and things just happened. My hands are still shaking from it.”
“Yeah, mine too. At least it worked out all right. We’re safe now.”
“Not all of us,” said Aaron. He sat up, a look of intensity in his eyes. “The henna girl is still back there.”
Isaac frowned. “Aaron, you know we couldn’t have done anything to save her.”
“Maybe not back there, but now that we’re free, we can.”
“Like what?”
For a second or two, Aaron was at a loss for words. He opened and closed his mouth, looked away for a second, then ran a hand through his hair.
“Look, I don’t actually have a plan, but we’ve got to do something. I mean, she’s on that battleship because of us. We’ve got to steal her back before they do something bad to her.”
The back of Isaac’s neck began to feel cold. He wiped the sweat away, fully realizing where this discussion was headed.
“I don’t know,” he said. He shook his head and rose to pace the floor of the tiny cabin. “Maybe they won’t do anything to her. Maybe it’s better for her this way.”
“Oh, come on. You saw the look on that officer’s face. There’s no record of her anywhere, no one who knows who she is or where she came from. They can do anything they want with her, and they probably will.”
“Look, I know you want to help her. I do, too, but Aaron—she’s on an Imperial battleship. We can’t just walk in and ask them to give her back.”
“No, but we can fight. You have the coordinates for Argo’s recruiting post, right? They’re going to retake Colkhia as soon as they can, and if we join up now, we can be there when they do. Maybe we can find a way to get her back.”
“That’s a pretty slim chance,” said Isaac. He sighed and sat down across the table from his brother, clasping both hands together. “It’s pretty clear we have to start over. The Imperials didn’t just take the girl, they took all our cargo, too. We can probably make most of it back by joining a few supply convoys, but that’s going to take time, and—”
“No,” said Aaron, slamming both hands on the table. “Can’t you see? Now is the perfect time. We’ve got nothing left to lose!”
We can still lose each other.
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea to get more involved in this conflict than we have to. We’re not from here—the New Pleiades, I mean. We’re strangers.”
“We’re strangers everywhere,” said Aaron. “Ever since Megiddo Station fell, we’ve been strangers. That girl’s a stranger, too, and when she wakes up in the hands of those Imperial thugs, she’s going to be a hell of a lot more lost than we are.”
“I know, but—”
“So isn’t that reason enough to join the fight? Or didn’t you believe Argo when he said we’re all in this together—that the very future of the Outworlds is at stake?”
Isaac sighed heavily. “Look, let’s just take it easy until we’ve calmed down. It’s going to take the jump drive a few hours to recharge, so we don’t have to make a decision right away. We’ve got time to think things through, so let’s not say anything rash.”
Aaron looked as if he were about to protest, but instead he rose to his feet and began to pace. Whether he was fuming with anger or planning out his next angle of attack, Isaac didn’t care. His head was pounding, and he felt so tired, more tired than he could ever remember. The familiar walls of the cozy little cabin now seemed to be closing in around him, constricting his entire world. It was as if he’d been on the ship with his brother for months, not just a few minutes.
“You know what?” said Aaron, his voice surprisingly calm. “When I was out there alone, spinning helplessly through space, I realized something.”
“What?”
“I realized that my whole life, I’ve been spinning just like that. Helpless, with no control. I’ve always been in someone else’s shadow, drifting from place to place with no real say in anything. When we found that girl back at Nova Alnilam, I finally had some sense of purpose and direction, but when we lost her …”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know how to describe it, but I realized that I couldn’t just let her go. I couldn’t just go back to the way things have always been, with me following you around and drifting through life. I finally had something to fight for, and I’d rather die than live without it.”
Isaac frowned, and his heart sank at his brother’s words. This wasn’t like him—something was different. Something had changed. Instead of lashing out in a tantrum, his words were focused and purposeful. He was building to something, and Isaac had a horrible feeling that he wouldn’t want to hear what it was.
“What are you saying, Aaron?”
His brother shook his head and paced for a bit before answering. “I guess what I’m saying is … I don’t know how to put this, but I can’t stay with you. I’ve got to strike out on my own.”
The words cut through Isaac like a laser. His throat constricted, and the floor seemed to spin beneath him.
“Aaron, are you sure? We’re brothers—we’re in this together.”
“Yeah, but I can’t live in your shadow anymore. I’ve got to start making decisions on my own. If that means fighting against the Imperials, then drop me off with the flotilla. Otherwise, I’ll leave at the next port and make my way there myself.”
“But—but you can’t do this!”
“Why not?”
“Because we’ve been together since Alpha Oriana,” said Isaac, his emotions beginning to crack. “You’re the last family I’ve got. Besides, I told Dad I’d look after you, and if you leave now, I’d, I’d …”
He wasn’t able to finish without choking up completely. Aaron watched him with an unreadable expression on his face, one lost somewhere between confusion and sympathy. It wasn’t a face Isaac had ever seen. For some reason, that choked him up even more.
“You can’t take care of m
e if you keep me from making my own decisions,” said Aaron, his voice almost completely devoid of anger. “There are some things I have to do on my own.”
“But you don’t even speak the language around here! That EVA suit—you couldn’t even read the sub-menus to figure out how the thing worked. Do you really expect to last more than two seconds on your own?”
“I’ll figure it out. I’ve got a reason to learn, now. That girl is depending on me—I’ve got to rescue her.”
Isaac buried his aching head in his hands, as if to shut himself off from the rest of the universe. His brother’s mind was set—it was clear there was no dissuading him. He’d made his decision to join the fight against the Imperials, and whether he followed through on that decision at the next port or the one after, there was nothing Isaac could do to change his mind.
“Look,” said Aaron, “why don’t you get some rest? There’s no rush. We can talk about this later.”
Isaac was too shaken up to argue. “Yeah,” he said, stumbling off to his bunk. “Later.”
Though if he had his way, they would never have to talk about it at all.
* * * * *
Isaac tried to sleep for about an hour, but he just couldn’t manage it. He had too much on his mind: his brother leaving, their cargo getting seized, the girl falling into the Imperials’ hands. Everything was going wrong, and it was all his fault.
He stared at the bottom of Aaron’s bunk and thought back to when they’d first set out on the Medea. Only a few months had passed since leaving Megiddo Station, and the situation was already grim. They were refugees in every sense of the word, and so was the rest of their family: poor, outcast, and struggling every day just to get by. Most of them didn’t even speak Gaian.
After Isaac’s father had first asked him about taking the Medea, they didn’t speak about it again for almost a full standard week. Mother had gone somewhere, probably to visit one of the neighbors, when his father had brought it up again.
“Are you ready to take the Medea?”
“Yeah,” Isaac said softly, knowing that his father wanted to keep the whole thing a secret. His parents had been arguing a lot recently, which was probably why his mother was gone so much. The open hostility had weighed heavily on everyone.
“Good. Get your brother and meet me at the elevators near quadrant four.”
He wants us to leave now? Chills shot down down his spine, but there was no time to object; his father was already heading out the door.
Isaac sighed and walked into the bedroom. His legs felt like water and his hands were beginning to shake, but he ignored that and steeled himself as best as he could. Aaron was lying half-asleep on his mattress, the only one who hadn’t woken up. Through the thin sheet metal walls, Isaac could hear his aunts chatting as they went about their chores.
“Hey, Aaron,” he said. “Time to get up.”
His brother yawned. “Why? Whas’goin on?”
“Dad needs us ASAP. Better get some clothes on and come with me.”
For a moment, Aaron looked as if he was about to object, but when he saw Isaac’s face, he shrugged and sat up. After taking a moment to stretch, he grabbed some pants and a shirt from the pile of unwashed clothes at the base of his mattress, then stood up and straightened himself out.
“What does he need us for?”
“He—he said he’d let us know,” Isaac stammered. For a second, he considered telling Aaron everything, but it would have taken too long and the walls were far too thin. Better to let Dad do that, once they were out of earshot .
They walked out side-by-side into the windowless corridor. Isaac choked up a bit, knowing that they wouldn’t come back. At least, he wouldn’t. He wanted to say goodbye, but there was no opportunity for that. Maybe they’d get a chance later over the radio, once they were on the Medea. Even so, it pained him not to be able to say it in person.
It’s for the best, he tried to tell himself. Better to leave now, quietly, than to watch Mom throw another hysterical fit.
They met their father halfway to the elevators. He was pacing there, evidently as agitated as Isaac. After briefly exchanging greetings, they set off down the corridor at a brisk pace.
“Where are we going, Dad?”
Isaac glanced over at his father, but the old man’s face was as impassive as an asteroid. Should we tell him? Their eyes met, and a barely perceptible shake of the head told him that the answer was no.
“Uh, Dad,” said Aaron, “the elevators for our section are back there.”
“I know, son,” said their father. “We aren’t taking those elevators.”
“Then where are we going?”
“I’ll let you know when we get there.”
Aaron sighed loudly and rolled his eyes in an overly dramatic gesture of exasperation. He really had no idea what was going on, did he? Of course not. He hadn’t spent his whole life looking forward to this moment like Isaac had.
“Everything’s secure,” he whispered to his father as they rounded the corner of the next residential housing unit. “All of my things are already stowed on board the Medea.”
“And Aaron’s?”
“As many as I could sneak out.”
His father looked him in the eye and nodded. In that moment, Isaac caught a glimpse of the struggle within his father. His heart leaped into his throat as he realized that it wasn’t any easier for his father to send them off this way than it was for them to leave. If they hadn’t been forced to flee Megiddo Station, it wouldn’t have to be this way. But that didn’t make it any easier.
Don’t worry, Dad, he wanted to say. I’ll do my best out there. I won’t let you or Aaron down.
They came to the elevators on the far side of the apartment block and stepped inside. Once the doors closed, their father let out a long breath, but still said nothing. Aaron looked from him to Isaac and back again.
“You’re seriously not going to tell me what this is about?” When neither of them answered, he smirked and shook his head. “What is this, some kind of kidnapping?”
Isaac looked up at their father, but still, he remained silent. Come on, Dad, he wanted to say. When are you going to tell him? It wasn’t fair to drop a decision like this on Aaron so abruptly, even if the secrecy was necessary. God knew their mother would do all she could to stop them if she knew about it. But Aaron was right—this was starting to resemble a kidnapping.
They stepped out onto the wide rimside corridor and headed off toward the Medea without a word. The docks and terminals were bustling as usual, filled with traffic from all over the Oriana Cluster. They all passed in a blur, though, barely more than a random jumble of languages and colors to Isaac. The diverse array of starfarers on the station was unlike anything he’d experienced back home, but that wasn’t the only reason he couldn’t focus.
“We’re going to the Medea, aren’t we?” Aaron asked, breaking the heavy silence between them. Still, their father didn’t answer.
“I said, are we going to the Medea?”
He has to know, Isaac thought, taking a deep breath. We shouldn’t keep it from him any longer.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s where we’re going.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there,” their father said abruptly. Isaac nearly objected, but decided instead to back down. As much as he wanted to come out and tell Aaron everything, the last thing they needed right then was a fight.
They walked in silence through the bustling crowd until they came to a nondescript airlock door, in a section designated for long-term docking. Their father palmed it open, and they stepped into the sterile, recycled air of the old family starship.
“Hey, what’s with all the stuff in here?” Aaron asked, noticing the pile of carefully folded clothes and the vacuum packed food in one of the open wall compartments. “Is someone getting ready to go?”
“Yes,” said Isaac as the door hissed shut behind them. “We both are.”
Aaron gave him
a funny look, then smiled as if the whole thing were a big joke. “Nuh-uh.”
“He’s right,” said their father. “I brought you here to see you both off. Coming here in secret was the only way to get past your mother.”
“Wait—both of us?”
“That’s right.”
Aaron’s face fell. He looked at Isaac, then back at their father.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was the only way to make sure that you didn’t go tell Mom,” said Isaac. “I mean, the only way to make sure she wouldn’t find out and stop us.”
“It’s your choice, of course, whether to stay or go,” said their father.
Aaron was starting to panic. His eyes were wide, and a sickeningly sober expression crossed his face.
“My choice? Wait, what about my things? My clothes, my—”
“I already brought them on board,” said Isaac. “The important things, anyway. They’re stowed in the footlocker under the bunks.”
His brother frowned in anger and disbelief. “You mean you went through my things without asking me?”
“That’s not important,” said their father, stepping between them. “Look, boys—look at me.”
He placed his hands on their shoulders and looked them each in the eye. A somber silence fell over them. Isaac bit his lip and did his best to ignore the numbness in his legs. This was the moment he’d spent his young life preparing for, the moment when he finally took his father’s ship and said goodbye.
“I know this isn’t easy for either of you,” their father began. “It certainly wasn’t easy for me when I was your age. It’s a vast and lonely universe out there, full of dangers and risk. Once you leave, you’ll probably never see us again.”
“Then why are you sending us out?” Aaron asked, his voice shaky.
“Because it’s the only way to give you both a chance at a better future. You remember how hard it was to leave Megiddo Station, don’t you? How much we had to sacrifice just to get here? Well, the prospects around here aren’t going to get any better. If you’re going to build a future for yourselves, you’ll have to do it the same way I did—by seeking your fortunes across the stars.”