Starship Waking

by C. Gockel

  Volka could smell her cousin’s agitation, and understood why she would have wanted to speak to her mother. Volka’s mother had passed away before Alaric moved into his uncle’s guest house. Volka had often wished she’d been able to ask advice and just to confess. She swallowed. Putting her hand on Myra’s arm, she said, “Even if she doesn’t accept you now, I hear when the baby comes grandparents are always forgiving.” Even if it wasn’t Abraham’s baby. Myra had to have lied about that.

  “I have no idea what she thinks of me now,” Myra hissed. “I never got to see her. Mrs. Lang, my mother’s neighbor, saw me before I got there. The Guard were there, at my mother’s house, Volka. Asking where I was, and if I’d had my baby.”

  Volka exhaled sharply, and her hair stood on end.

  Myra shook her head. “Don’t worry, she didn’t tell them where I was. But I don’t think I should stay with you anymore.”

  Volka wasn’t sure what Abraham had in mind for Myra—probably to insist she give up the child for adoption in return for his patronage. But that he brought in the Guard for it was strange. Threatening. “You’re right,” she said. Her mind began racing. She looked over her shoulder. They were in view of the checkpoint, but the men there were regular security, not Luddeccean Guard soldiers, and they weren’t paying any particular attention to Myra. As soon as she thought that, one of the security officer’s eyes met hers.

  Turning around, pulling Myra with her, she said, “Come on.”

  Myra whispered, “They’re here ?” as Volka led her to the stairs of the wooden church.

  Volka glanced over her shoulder. The human security at the gates of No Weere weren’t following them. There wasn’t a general apprehension order for Myra yet . The human security would remember her if the Guard questioned them later, though.

  “No, the Resistance isn’t here,” Volka hissed out of the side of her mouth. “But they won’t hide you…you’ve got a counselor for a patron.”

  “But—”

  “There are people here who will hide you, Myra. Now be quiet.”

  Climbing the stairs, Volka exhaled. Built by humans, the church, unlike most of the buildings in No Weere, was made according to a predetermined plan of materials that weren’t salvaged and repurposed. It was sturdy and clean, and at that moment, the doors of the church were thrown open. A warm glow and the smell of candles came from inside. At the end of the central aisle above the altar hung an emblem of the three books. Made of copper and green with age, it featured a six-pointed star and a crescent moon held together with a cross.

  Joseph, an elderly weere, emerged from the door and barked, “Rough day, Volka?” Myra swallowed, and in the periphery of her vision, Volka saw her put a hand to her throat. Her cousin had spent most of her life around humans, and Joseph had the misfortune of having a wolf-like face, complete with short velvety fur, a large, wet black nose, and canine-sharp teeth. He was the stereotype of a weere depicted in every newspaper cartoon.

  Despite his fearsome appearance, he was as kind as anyone Volka knew. She bowed her head respectfully, and spotted a book in the pocket of his coat, a worn paperback with a cover with a spaceship and Robot Invasion Libertas! written in bold letters.

  Seeing the direction of her gaze, he pushed his spectacles up his snout and chuckled. “Scripture,” he said.

  “Of course,” Volka replied with a smile.

  His mouth opened in a toothy grin, and Myra gasped.

  Paying her no mind, Joseph put a hand on Volka’s arm. Unlike her hands, he had claws instead of fingernails, but he kept them neatly trimmed. “I’m going to live vicariously through you, Child. I hope you bring home some paintings, or sketches, even some sand or rocks…anything from Libertas!”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” Volka said, though she wasn’t sure how much time she’d have. Admiral Geeran had commissioned Mr. Darmadi to do his portrait. Mr. Darmadi would probably take thousands of photos, and Volka would spend days in the darkroom developing them while Mr. Darmadi did color “sketches” in watercolor and oils. It would be important that they had all the references correct before coming home. It might be a rock or sand was all she could bring back.

  Joseph turned his be-speckled snout in Myra’s direction. “Myra, it’s been a long time.”

  One of Myra’s delicate nostrils flared.

  “Yes, we have something to discuss with you and your wife after the service,” said Volka, clasping the hand Joseph still had on her arm. Joseph’s eyes got wide and hopeful. “Oh, why yes, of course. We always welcome lost members of our flock back.” He opened his mouth in another toothy smile, but then his snout snapped shut. He sniffed and looked past them down the road.

  Hearing feminine laughter, Volka turned, too. A few girls were coming up the street, wearing their Saturday night bests. One of them was exceptionally giggly, her dress was open low at the top, and she was swinging on her friends’ arms. The other girls looked bemused by their friend’s antics and were laughing along and encouraging her. Volka didn’t expect them to stop at the church, but they did. The giggling girl got a foot on the front step, when Joseph walked to the edge of the porch and barked down, “What are you doing here during your time?”

  The giggling girl had wolf ears like Volka, but long gray hair that was out of place next to her youthful face. Her eyes were human and didn’t reflect the light. “It’s too early, it’s barely even fall…I just wanted to see Kevin.” She said, ears swiveling downward submissively. “I know he comes to church on Saturday nights after his shift.”

  Volka’s eyes slid down the rows of makeshift houses on either side of the unpaved street. There was a vendor selling rats on skewers looking in their direction. Men and a few women were ambling out onto their front porches. Leaning in the doorways, they eyed the girl and lifted their noses. Volka could smell what had captured their attention—a sort of musk, that, while not unpleasant, did nothing for her.

  From behind them came a masculine voice from within the church. “Molly?”

  “There you are,” said the girl .

  “Take her home!” Joseph barked at Molly’s friends.

  “Aww…” said one of them.

  “Maybe I should take her home,” said Kevin, his voice gruff, and so close, Volka jumped. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Kevin licking his lips. He was normally shy, quiet, and restrained, but tonight, his hands were clenched at his side, and she could see veins popping in his arms. He was leaning forward, blue eyes bright in their dark lined lids. He had mostly human ears, but she could see them ever so slightly perked.

  Spinning, Joseph said, “You just started your welding internship, young man! You aren’t going to be getting her or anyone with a child until you’re done.” Kevin’s blue eyes went wide, and Volka could see the exact instant he realized what was happening. He took a step back, jaw falling open. Not taking any chances, Joseph tore the paperback out of his pocket and smacked Kevin on the arm. “Go on! Get inside! Get inside!” Kevin turned around and went, cheeks flushed.

  Joseph growled at the girls, “Take her to her mother’s house if you’re really her friends.”

  “No! I don’t want to go home!” the strange weere girl said. Her friends giggled nervously. Instead of turning back the way they came, they headed toward the center of No Weere. Volka sighed and Joseph echoed it.

  Myra stamped a foot, and Joseph said, “Ah, yes, let’s get inside.”

  Volka started to turn back into the church, but her eyes were caught by a flash of light in the night sky. She craned her head to see, and Joseph followed her gaze. Pushing up his spectacles, he growled softly and chuckled. “Robot invasion.”

  Despite everything, Volka giggled .

  “It’s a meteor,” said Myra practically.

  Joseph ushered her inside. Volka lingered on the porch and followed the light with her eyes. Thinking of the Guard’s hunt for Myra, she frowned. Some said falling stars were bad omens. She almost hoped it was a robot invasion instead. Shaking her head
angrily at such a horrible wish, she headed into the church.

  8

  Falling Stars

  The emergency shuttle’s alarms were screaming. 6T9 was too busy trying to decelerate the ship to shut them off.

  Carl Sagan was sitting in the copilot chair, speaking over the ethernet, and 6T9 didn’t have a thought to spare to shut him off, either. “You missed Libertas! We missed an entire planet.”

  They’d made it into Luddeccean space by creating a diversion with unmanned mining vessels. They’d salvaged asteroid mining equipment to create better guns for the shuttle—ones that could disable remote mines—as long as they saw them before they collided with them. And it had worked…until they’d gotten thirty light minutes from the ecliptic plane when a mine had exploded and taken one of their time bands offline. “We can’t just suddenly slam out of light speed with a time band down,” 6T9 retorted. “Unless you want to be a pancake!”

  “We should have asked Admiral Sato for intelligence. They probably have spy drones, and spies too for that matter,” the werfle said .

  Static flared under 6T9’s skin. He pulled back on the throttle, decelerating the vessel. “I thought you wanted to keep The One secret from humans.”

  “You’re her friend! You could have engaged her and gently probed—”

  “We’re not friends,” 6T9 snarled, trying to bring the ship around. If he planned it right, they could loop around Luddeccea, and back toward Libertas.

  “Of course, you are fr—”

  “Noa and James are judgmental and disapproving,” he muttered, jaw getting hard. “You should have seen their faces after my stint aboard the independent trading vessel.”

  “I was there; I did see their faces. They were deeply concerned . You looked like, and pardon the expression, something the werfle had dragged in.”

  6T9 was saved from having to answer by a shot of phaser fire off the left side of the craft. He glanced up from the sensors to the viewport. A huge Luddeccean Guard cruiser was coming into view.

  “Uh-oh,” said Carl.

  “Now might be a good time to hop bodies, werfle,” said 6T9.

  “Or upload yourself,” Carl Sagan retorted.

  6T9 gripped the steering wheel tighter. “And risk coming back asexual and prudish? Not until the last minute.”

  “The last minute might be fast approaching,” Carl Sagan replied.

  6T9 blinked. The cruiser was fast approaching . Another streak of light bounced off the forward shields. The ship shuddered and metal groaned in the cabin. 6T9 surveyed the sensors, and made a decision. “We’re going down.”

  “Then why are you still here?” Carl Sagan asked. “Isn’t it time for a fast upload?”

  “We’re landing here , on Luddeccea,” 6T9 said firmly.

  “It’s crawling with the Luddeccean Guard, and much more dangerous than Libertas!” Carl Sagan replied.

  “We’ll be landing someplace the Guard won’t be,” 6T9 replied.

  “Where exactly?”

  6T9 felt his Q-comm heat. “Where Time Gate 8 dropped its bombs. The area is radioactively contaminated. Humans won’t be there.”

  Luddeccea was streaking into view and hovering above it was the remains of Time Gate 8, the gate that had brought about Revelation by going to war with the planet below it. 6T9 had thought it had been completely destroyed—but there were lights gleaming around half the outer rim. The other side was a misshapen shadow. 6T9 called out into the ether instinctively. “Hello, Gate 8,” he whispered as he guided the shuttle into Luddeccea’s atmosphere. There was only silence.

  “The gate’s still there,” he said to the werfle. Why hadn’t they destroyed it entirely?

  “Our intelligence says they’re doing some sort of experiments on the gate,” the werfle replied distractedly. Hopping in his seat, Carl said, “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  They were passing through the uppermost layer of clouds and descending fast. 6T9 had thought that every alarm in the ship was blaring, but another one cut on at that moment. Unbuckling himself from the seat, he grabbed the werfle by the scruff of the neck. Carl’s claws detached from the seat with a rip 6T9 felt in his fingers rather than heard. “Are you trying to declaw me?” Carl cried through the ether.

  6T9 started to apologize, and then screamed a second later as the werfle’s claws dug into his chest. He let go of the werfle in surprise, but Carl didn’t slip. “You need your arms!” the werfle cried over the ether.

  And so he did. Cursing under his breath, 6T9 activated a control panel, and a hidden compartment opened. Grabbing the hover pack within and connecting to its local ether, 6T9 swung it over his shoulders.

  “Are you sure about this?” Carl asked.

  The ship groaned and rocked.

  6T9 called over the ether for the hatch to open. The ship didn’t respond. He slammed his hand down on another button. The hatch whined, but then dropped. Luddeccea spread out below them. For a moment, 6T9 saw sparkling lights, and then all he saw was clouds. The ship rocked, and metal screamed. Phaser fire, made ghostly by the clouds, passed on either side of them.

  “Jump!” Carl screamed over the ether.

  “We need to wait,” 6T9 said, edging down the ramp. Reaching toward a trunk beside the opening, 6T9 said, “I need to grab the mining munitions and we’re not in the right—”

  “Jump!” Carl screamed again, filling 6T9 with a mental image of fire leaping from the cockpit and coming straight at him.

  At the exact moment, 6T9 felt heat on his back. Wrapping his arms around the werfle and burying his face in its fur, 6T9 jumped without turning on the hover pack. He fell into the clouds, past ghostlier phaser fire, and heard the scream of Guard starfighters he couldn’t see rushing past him, their lights smudges in the night. The clouds thinned. Turning onto his back mid-air, he saw the shuttle burst into flames, and the Luddeccean Guard vessels zooming around the debris…hundreds of kilometers away.

  Every circuit in 6T9’s body fired at once, and the light bloomed from his body into the air. He laughed with relief that felt better than sex. “We made it!”

  Projecting an image of the shadow of ruined buildings coming up fast, Carl Sagan said, “Um…I think you should land before you say that.”

  Volka bowed her head, knees on the floor, elbows on the pew in front of her. God, let me help Myra…and let me be grateful to Mr. Darmadi and the opportunities he’s given to me, and grateful to the Luddecceans, no matter how hard it sometimes seems. She exhaled. The weere had fled System 11 after Revelation, leaving behind the unbelievers who were prepared to risk their souls after the time gates’ true natures were revealed. The Luddecceans had let them in, despite the weere’s own special sin. Centuries ago, the weere founders had overcome the radiation on System 11 by splicing the human genome with the genome of wolves that had lived for centuries around a radioactive reactor on old Earth. More resistant than humans to radiation, the weere had helped clean up Luddeccea after Revelation—and helped Luddeccea’s neighbor, Libertas, terraform. The Luddecceans had continued to let the weere live in their system as refugees, and no matter what, it was better than being a slave to machines in the Galactic Republic .

  “The service is over, Volka,” Myra said. “And I have to pee.”

  Volka looked sideways at her cousin. Myra winced and put a hand on her stomach. “The baby is kicking.”

  Volka eyed her cousin’s midsection. Weere miscarried more than they carried to term with each other, but with humans, it was impossible to carry to term. That’s what she’d been told. Her brow furrowed. Alaric wouldn’t have lied about that…would he? She shook her head. No, he was human, but that wouldn’t be like him. The baby had to be pure weere…even if Myra didn’t smell like she was lying.

  Feeling a heaviness in her chest, Volka stood. “Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

  A few minutes later, while Myra was using the facilities, Volka convened with Joseph and Esther in the church kitchen. “She needs somewhere to st
ay,” she said. “I know that she hasn’t been the most exemplary follower of the Three Books…”

  “Nor was she loyal to her patron,” Esther said. Esther had short hair like Volka’s, and wolf ears covered by velvet. Once her hair and velvet had been black, but now both were gray with age. She had the kohl-like black pigment around her eyes. Her nose was delicate and human, but below it, her philtrum, the indentation just between the nose and lips, was a single narrow line, and her upper lip was almost nonexistent. Like Joseph, she had claws instead of fingernails.

  Esther was proud of her wolf heritage, and she looked down on weere who were unfaithful, “Like those monkey-humans.” It was true, weere were faithful to a fault. The girls and young men so desperate they sold their bodies at the “weere houses” tended to go mad if they didn’t find a patron. Many took their own lives. The poor man who fell in with Molly tonight in a hormone-induced haze was very unlikely to leave her, but very likely to be miserable if fatherhood upended any of his plans. Molly might find herself miserable, too.

  Joseph added, “Our kind aren’t like humans. We don’t move on…”

  Volka’s shoulders fell. Was that why she hadn’t? Shaking herself, she said, “Myra says it is the patron’s child.”

  Joseph’s lip rose, revealing long, sharp teeth.

  Volka looked at the floor, sorry she’d mentioned it. “I know it seems difficult to believe.”

  “It’s impossible. Weere don’t have babies with humans,” Joseph growled.

  Volka’s ears curled submissively, and the hair on her head prickled. She rubbed her arm to ward off the evening chill. “Yes.”

  “But it is wrong that he’s forcing her to abort,” Joseph said.

  Volka’s eyes went wide. That could be why the Guard had come, not just to urge Myra to put the baby up for adoption.

  “That is true,” said Esther, ears flattening.

  Outside the door, someone stepped close. The three fell silent; their ears swiveled forward, and they sniffed the air. It was only Gabrielle, Kevin’s mother. As soon as Gabrielle retreated, Joseph shook his head. “It’s a bad business…bad business.”