The Long Black (The Black Chronicles Book 1)

by J. M. Anjewierden

  Mary was saying something about how it was a pity they couldn’t afford to update the ship’s screens to holographic displays, but Morgan didn’t hear her. Every ounce of her attention was on the picture before her.

  “It’s beautiful,” Morgan whispered, to herself or no one. “From space, even Hillman is.” She didn’t notice the tears running down her cheeks as she said goodbye to her home world, hopefully for the last time.

  Mary sat down in the chair next to her, slowly reaching out a hand to put it on her shoulder.

  “Obviously you’ve never jumped before, but do you at least know the basics of how it works?”

  Morgan shook her head, forcing herself to look away from the screen and at Mary’s face. Mary pointed back at the screen. She hit a button and the view changed, showing instead what Morgan assumed was the gate. It didn’t look like much from this far away, a dull grey ring of metal with lights winking here and there, forming an empty circle.

  “Well, I don’t understand the physics of it, but I can give you the simple version. Basically the gate opens a hole in normal space, letting the ship go, well, somewhere else, where the laws of physics are different. Ships can go immensely fast there, and things are closer together. A heavy mass – like a planet or star – forces a ship back into normal space.

  “Instead of weeks or months to get from planet to planet we can do it in hours. And instead of years or decades between star systems we can travel it in weeks.

  “We almost never saw the night sky. Too much cloud cover. Every glimpse of the stars was another reminder that there were other places out there, better places.”

  “Most of us don’t even really see the stars anymore. You see something often enough you start recognizing it and not really seeing it anymore.” Helga gestured to the display. “Like that behemoth out there. You’re in for a real light show when we go into that thing. Me, though, I never have time to stop and just take it in.

  “It’s seven jumps to get from here to where the system gate is. After that it’s a week or so in subspace before we arrive at the Breimley system. We have a couple stops there, and then it’s on to the Parlon system.”

  “And you’ll be leaving me there?”

  “Yes. Asad and Helga, along with myself, we own the ship, which is a great, but profits are thin. We can’t afford to have anyone on board who doesn’t pull their weight. Besides, you need to get an education, medical treatment, and a thousand other things we can’t give you here. You should probably start thinking about what you want to do, since you are nearly of adult age.” Something in her tone made Morgan think Mary didn’t really believe that she was seventeen, but as long as she didn’t call her on it Morgan would be fine.

  Morgan could only shrug. She was starting to realize that having infinite options open to her was in its way almost as bad as having no options.

  “There are lots of jobs that will always be in demand, whatever planet you end up on. Technicians, mechanics, repairwomen. Everyone seems to want the flashy or fun jobs, but those are rarely as stable as something like fixing things.”

  “I like fixing things. What about jobs in space?”

  Mary laughed. “Those are always in demand. Nearly six hundred years since we left Earth, and people are getting complacent. Hundreds of worlds to choose from, why take the risks of working in space? Sure, new exploration isn’t happening much, but you always need to haul junk from one end to the other. It’s not glamorous so most folks consider it beneath them.”

  No one spoke for several minutes until Mary stood up. “I’m needed on the bridge, I’m afraid. Be sure to watch the jump. There is only one first time. Later we can talk about how you’re going to be helping us during the journey, earn your keep.” As she walked over to the door Mary grabbed a blanket off of the other chair, draping it over Morgan. “You were shivering. Don’t worry, you’ll adjust eventually. Most planets aren’t as hot as yours, but we humans can adapt to just about anything.”

  As the ship got close the space inside the great ring began to ripple, a wavering in the light of the stars beyond. Then the stars disappeared from view all at once. The fabric of space became so black it seemed to leech the light out of the silvery metal of the gate’s struts. The gate took up the entire screen now, the edges just outside of the frame. There was a flash of light and the absolute black of the gateway became a dizzying array of every color Morgan had ever seen, and a few she had no words for. She was never sure how long the moment lasted. She would have believed a second or a minute equally, but either way it was too quick. Then they were through, surrounded not by the brilliant colors of the gateway, but a dimly lit grey expanse with a star-field of its own, but here the stars were all a sullen red color. Subspace, Morgan had heard it called. The word meant nothing to Morgan, beyond that it somehow allowed ships to travel much faster than in normal space.

  It felt fitting to Morgan, for all its strangeness. Fitting that something completely unknowable would be the thing to take her to the unknown. Take her to where her future wasn’t planned out in advance by the comrade managers and their Tinnys who ran the planet.

  PART 2: THE BLUE ISLE

  CHAPTER 07

  For all the talk of the importance of education, why is the public not flocking to trade schools? We don’t have a shortage of schools that are churning out philosophers and theorists, or even doctors and lawyers. What we do need are more trained mechanics, pilots, and electricians. Prices go up because there aren’t enough hands for the jobs. While I’m sure my graduates appreciate the higher wages, I’d imagine they’d like time off too.

  - Nick Oar, President of Keldar Integrated Trade Schools, planet Keldar

  A FEW ZION/EARTH MONTHS LATER

  “YOU’RE MORGAN, RIGHT?”

  The sudden break in silence startled Morgan, but she forced herself to look up slowly. After the twentieth time she’d been told she looked like ‘a caged animal’ she’d started pretending to be less observant than she was. She didn’t even try to appear quite as oblivious as her fellow students though. How they had survived to twice or thrice her own age blundering through the world was beyond her understanding.

  Sitting with her back to the door was a good way she had found to seem more normal, though she could only bring herself to do it in places like her school, which had access restricted to students.

  It still resulted in unpleasant surprises from time to time, unfortunately.

  There was a woman standing in the classroom’s doorway, smiling in a fairly maternal fashion. Her age could have been anywhere from mid-twenties to sixty. Everyone looked young to Morgan. She was still used to the mine wearing people out early. Once the universal anti-aging treatments were factored in, tripling lifespans and slowing aging considerably. . . well, Morgan had simply given up trying.

  Morgan thought the woman was one of the other students in her repair and maintenance classes, but she wasn’t sure. In class most of them wore plain and sturdy clothing – like Morgan’s own tan coveralls – but right now the woman was wearing an ornate robe/dress thing Morgan had seen a couple of times on the street, her hair done up in fancy style that Morgan suspected took far too long to achieve.

  Right. She needed to say something.

  “I’m Morgan. I’m surprised I’m not the only one here.”

  The woman smiled wider and stepped forward a bit. As she did so, Morgan caught sight of a little girl hiding behind the woman, clutching at her skirts. She had short jet-black straight hair, compared to the woman’s longer and wavy light brown. Their eyes were also different shapes, but clearly, the woman was her mother.

  “Well, you were almost right Morgan. I’m only here to grab something I forgot. I’m Gertrude, by the way, and this,” she motioned to the child behind her, “is Haruhi.” The little girl waved shyly, one eye poking out from behind the woman to look at Morgan. Morgan smiled at the little girl. After all the changes in her life, she’d been relieved to discover that children were children, whether on
Hillman or Zion.

  Gertrude sat down across from Morgan, grabbing the edge of the large tablet Morgan had been studying. She spun it around so she could see the schematics and text.

  “I’m surprised you’re still studying this,” Gertrude said, tracing a finger along the schematic. “I watched you make this repair last week, faster than most of the class.”

  “I still need to understand the principles behind the machine,” Morgan replied, turning the tablet back around.

  Gertrude looked at Morgan, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized her. “Do you have trouble with the reading?”

  Morgan felt her mouth open in shock, but couldn’t think of anything to say for a moment. “I thought you Zionites tried to always be polite,” she finally got out.

  “Oh, I’m too blunt, I know. But you have to understand, you’ve piqued the curiosity of our entire class just by being here. You don’t talk in class or answer questions, yet you act like you’ve been fixing things your whole life. No one can figure out where your accent is from. Most of all you’re in an evening tech class designed for working adults, but you look like you should be in junior high.”

  “What does that have to do with reading?” Morgan asked. She wanted to ask what junior high was, but she’d learned those kind of questions only drew more attention to herself. She’d just have to look it up later.

  “My guess is you’re a refugee,” Gertrude said, very confidently. Morgan scowled, her lips pressing into a thin line. Gertrude just waved one hand at her, “Oh, there isn’t anything wrong with that. Really, it’s commendable that you’re trying to make something of yourself, wherever you’re from. It’s just – I’ve seen some of my nephews struggle with reading, and watching you in class reminded me of them. There are a lot of places out there that don’t encourage reading, after all.”

  “Say you’re right. Why are you wasting my time instead of letting me get back to studying?”

  Gertrude laughed. “With this little one here I’ve rather gotten used to worrying, so it isn’t any extra trouble for me to worry about you too. Besides, you look like you could use a friend."

  “And why would I need one of those?”

  “You’re sitting in here struggling through classwork while the rest of the city is either at home enjoying the holiday or actually at the Obon Festival. Besides, I can help you.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve done it before, with my nephews. My brother and his wife are great parents, but not very good teachers.”

  “Lady, I don’t know you,” Morgan started.

  “She’s not a Lady. She’s Mom,” Haruhi piped up out of nowhere, grasping the edge of the table and looking over it to peer at Morgan with her big dark eyes.

  Morgan couldn’t help but smile at that. The little girl was just so earnest. It was cute.

  “Oh she is, is she?” Morgan suppressed a small laugh as Haruhi nodded vigorously. “And what kind of mom is she?”

  Haruhi didn’t answer, her shyness having gotten the upper hand again. She dropped back from the table and gave Gertrude a fierce hug.

  “Look, come with us to the festival. It’s very public, and you can decide for yourself if you like me. Plus, it’ll be fun.”

  Haruhi bounced in place a little bit, nodding again.

  Morgan smothered another small smile. “What is this. . . bon thing?”

  “It’s a memorial. The Obon Festival. We’re honoring our ancestors. Especially those we’ve lost recently. But it’s also a big carnival, with games and rides. Later there will be fireworks. You’ve missed the first two days already, but at least they save the best for last.”

  Morgan gestured to the robe thing Gertrude and Haruhi were wearing, “And is there a. . . dress code?” She stumbled a bit over the unfamiliar term.

  Gertrude looked down at her outfit. “The kimono? It is traditional, but don’t worry about it. The festival welcomes everyone, especially those who aren’t Buddhist or Shintoist. By now, you should have learned that Zion’s national pastime is proselytizing. Besides, there isn’t really time for you to go home and change.”

  “You seem sure I’m coming with you.” Proselytizing wasn’t a word Morgan had heard before coming to the Parlon system, but she had learned it quickly – Gertrude wasn’t exaggerating, it really was the planetary pastime, if polite and courteous to a fault.

  Gertrude shrugged, then carefully scooped up Haruhi into her arms. “Of course I am. Can you really say no to this face?” She gestured to Haruhi, who nodded furiously.

  “Come have fun,” the little girl happily said. “I made a paper ‘tern for otou-sama.”

  Morgan looked at Gertrude for a translation.

  “That’s right, Haruhi,” Gertrude said gently, “We made a paper lantern to put in the river for your father.”

  She was smiling, but her eyes looked sad. Morgan was about to ask about him when she realized the likely reason for having something for a family member in a memorial festival.

  “Well, okay,” Morgan said instead, offering her hand solemnly to the little girl, “But only because you asked.”

  Since Morgan hadn’t been tinkering with any physical parts, all she had to do to clean up was put the tablet back in its holder. As they left Gertrude stopped at her locker and pulled out the paper lantern, a tall white rectangular affair with some markings on it. They looked a lot like some of the signs she had seen in parts of town, so she guessed they were writing. She didn’t ask what it said.

  The three of them left the tech school on foot. Or rather, two of them on foot and the third carried as they walked towards the center of town and the large park that straddled the Mossbank River. The day was clear enough that Morgan could see the towering structures of Ein city, some fifty miles away. The ground under the suburb of Isa couldn’t support the massive weight of a single two hundred story tower, let alone the dozens of interlinked towers that made up most modern cities. As such, Isa was much more spread out, giving it the feel of the old pre-space cities on Earth.

  Or so the government employee had said back when Morgan had first arrived on Zion. It had been the employee’s task to help Morgan find a school, a job, and place to stay. She’d recommended Isa for that very reason, since Morgan didn’t have any experience living among the massive crowds of a modern city. There were downsides, of course. The rent was higher than in a tower, since you couldn’t fit even remotely the same number of people in the same space. The only reason it wasn’t much higher was because demand was low. Most people had grown up in the dense cities, and for them not being a short elevator ride away from practically all of life’s necessities was an unpleasant and foreign experience.

  That Isa had one of the better tech schools, particularly if you wanted to study the maintenance and repair of space ships, had been a welcome bonus as well.

  Several blocks before the park Gertrude turned onto a side street.

  “I hope you don’t mind, there is a brief stop we need to make before we join the festivities, part of the original festival.”

  “I don’t mind,” Morgan said. She hadn’t been in this particular neighborhood before, not being one to explore the city without a set destination in mind. Presently they came to a graveyard, surrounded by a well-maintained brick wall. Gertrude led them to an un-weathered marble slab with recesses in front of it, one holding flowers, the other a lit stick of incense.

  It had more of the writing Morgan couldn’t decipher in three vertical lines, one of which was painted red.

  After standing there silently for a minute Gertrude started talking, without turning to face Morgan. “We buried my husband not quite a year ago. A training accident. His family lives in the Makor system, so it’s pretty much just Haru and me, at least since my brother got a job on Albion.”

  “It’s difficult, being away from your family.”

  Gertrude put Haruhi down, and the little girl walked up to the stone, running her fingers along the carved writing.

  “His unit
stops in pretty regularly, and their spouses help with stuff like babysitting while I’m at school. I could have moved to be closer to his family, or mine, but that would have meant leaving home behind.”

  “I don’t understand,” Morgan said slowly, “It’s just a building, they can be replaced.”

  “A home is more than just a house,” Gertrude said slowly, “It holds memories, hopes, and dreams. Every time I look out my window, I can see the fence that Naru built one weekend with half his unit. I think of all the time they spent joking around and drinking beer, covered in white paint and sawdust. They spent as much time at that as they did as they did actually working. Every time I put Haruhi to bed, I can hear him singing lullabies to her. There are a thousand memories, just like that.

  “My home reminds me of Naru. Sometimes that’s hard. Sometimes it helps. No matter what I do I will always miss him, but at least this way it feels like he isn’t as far.”

  “I’ll have to think on that,” Morgan said.

  They stood in silence for several minutes, worlds apart in experiences, yet thinking the same kind of thoughts.

  “Come on little one, time to get to the games,” Gertrude said, holding out her hand for Haruhi to take, which she was only too happy to do.

  The sounds of the carnival reached them several blocks before they got a look at it. Morgan took her time taking it in as they walked, this massive jumble of lights and sounds and voices. It certainly wasn’t like anything she had seen back home.

  There were booths scattered about, some selling food, others with what she guessed were the games. The food wasn’t anything she recognized, since the part of town she lived in was predominantly settled by people whose ancestors had come from someplace called Texas. It was at least easier to identify them as food than to guess what the games were. Well, except the small cylinders of what looked like rice wrapped in something. Morgan had no idea what those were. Several others had bunches of useless looking items, soft fabric things made up to look like animals, that sort of thing. Toys, that was the word. She’d never even imagined such a thing before coming to Zion. On Hillman, only the youngest children ever had time to play. Even then, it was done with stuff they cobbled together from rocks or sticks or trash. Throw in the possibility of injury or death from simply tripping, even with their denser bones and muscles, and it wasn’t hard to see why play was discouraged on Hillman. That was even before you factored in their leaders and strict laws.