Jenny dropped her duffel bag by the front door and entered the kitchen. She had prepared two types of cookie dough last night, one for Anzac biscuits and the other for Afghans, delicious cookies popular in New Zealand. Jenny preheated the oven and pulled the two bowls from the refrigerator. She dropped spoonfuls of dough, evenly spaced, onto two cookie sheets.
Back in the 1980s, this building had been a restaurant, and the appliances were never upgraded. Early on, there had been some tragic cookie failures until they bought an oven thermometer to sit on the rack. Jenny slid the baking sheets into the oven and set a timer for ten minutes. She started cleaning up.
There was a knock at the door. Jenny glanced at the timer. Three minutes left. “Can someone get that?” Jenny shouted. Nobody answered, but she didn’t want to abandon her cookies. Where’s Bea? The knock came again, more insistent this time. Jenny sighed and hurried to the front door. She unlocked the deadbolt, pulled the chain, and swung it open.
Michael Creme stood in the doorway. He was a college-aged man with a short, hipster-style black beard. Michael worked at the Black Rabbit Cafe down the street, a place Jenny considered her second home. He held a large dark-gray package in his tattooed arms. A stylized image of a cabin and the letters VRGo were embossed onto the wrapping paper.
“Michael?”
“Happy Birthday, Jenny!” Michael held the package out. “Do you like puzzles?”
“Um, yeah.” Jenny took the pizza-sized box from Michael and almost lost her balance. It was heavier than it looked.
“You got it?”
“Yeah.” Jenny adjusted the package in her arms. “Thanks.” Why would Michael give me a puzzle?
“You need to open that right away.”
“Why? My birthday isn’t until Friday.”
“I know, but it’s sort of time-sensitive. And because it’s your birthday, I’ll give you a free milkshake at the cafe.”
“Okay.” Jenny smiled.
“Is your mom home from the hospital?” Michael leaned against the entryway.
“Yeah.”
“How is she?”
Jenny’s smile faded. “She’s on lots of painkillers, so she’s as good as someone can be who’s about to die.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s hard, you know? But I’m dealing.” Jenny heard the timer for her cookies and sighed. Saved by the bell. “Well, I’ve gotta go save my cookies from the oven. Thanks for the present.”
“Oh yeah. I’ll see you later for that free milkshake.”
“Yeah, bye.” Jenny closed the door with her foot and set the package down before rushing to the kitchen.
“Who was that?” Aunt Bea called.
“Michael, from the cafe. He brought me a birthday present.”
“Oh? That’s odd.”
“Yeah, a bit.”
Bea walked into the kitchen. “Those smell wonderful.”
Jenny smiled. They were a bit on the brown side, but they weren’t ruined. “I hope they taste better than they look. I’m about to take some up to Mom.”
“I’m sure she’ll love them.”
Jenny poured tea into a porcelain cup and placed six cookies on a plate, three of each type. Carefully, she climbed the stairs and peeked into Ruby’s room. Seeing that her mom was awake, Jenny set the tray on the bed and sat down.
“Yum.” Ruby sat up and hugged Jenny.
“I made these for you.”
“They look delicious.”
They ate in silence for a time, enjoying the shortbread cookies and tea in each other’s presence. Ruby turned to Jenny and said, “Tell me more about school.”
“Okay, what do you want to know?”
“Have you made any friends?”
Jenny hadn’t, but she had only been at her new school for a couple of months. Not that any more time would have mattered. She wasn’t the best at making friends, and she didn’t really want to. Yet, with the way her mom was looking at her, she had to tell her something. “There is this one boy.”
“A boy?”
“He’s on the fencing team with me.”
“Hmm.” Ruby raised an eyebrow. “What about Adriana Thatcher?”
Jenny frowned. “Miss goody-goody, popular, and pretty? What about her?”
“Have you tried to be friends with her?”
“She looks at me like I’m a freak.”
Ruby looked Jenny up and down. To be fair, Jenny was not trying to conform with the popular crowd—or any crowd, for that matter. All she wanted was to be left alone with her music and her books.
“Why would I be friends with her?” Jenny asked.
“Because she’s Roma.”
“What?” Jenny squinted. “She doesn’t look Roma.”
“Yeah, she inherited her mother’s looks.”
“Still, that’s no reason for us to be friends. We have nothing in common.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do.”
Ruby looked away from Jenny and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Still, I’d like you to try.”
Jenny held her mom’s bony hand. “If it means that much to you…”
“It does, thank you.” Ruby set down her cup and yawned. “I’m tired all of a sudden, Djangini. Will you help me get ready for bed?”
“Sure.”
Lately, it seemed that her mom spent more time asleep than awake, but that was better than always being in pain. Jenny helped her mom use the bathroom and get back into bed. She lifted the homemade quilt to Ruby’s chin, kissed her forehead, and turned out the light. Then, she took the empty tray down to the kitchen and cleaned up.
The phone rang in the other room, and Jenny heard Bea pick it up.
Jenny checked the clock. It was just after nine. She still had an hour before she had to leave for practice, which gave her time to open the package that Michael delivered.
“That was Rebecca,” Bea called down the stairs. “She’ll be here in an hour.”
“What?” Jenny answered. Rebecca? Oh crap, I forgot. Rebecca was her regular tarot-reading client. Jenny looked down at the duffel bag holding her fencing gear. Before we came, Bea used to do all the readings by herself. “Can you do the reading this time? I have fencing practice today.”
“No, she’s your client, and you can play with your friends another day.”
“Fine.” Jenny huffed. I guess I won’t be fencing today. Jenny looked down at the box in her hands. At least I have time to see what this is.
The old wood stairs creaked and popped as Jenny carried the package up to her room. She set it on her desk, waking up her computer as it nudged the mouse. A Web page about a foreign exchange program displayed on the monitor. One of Ruby’s biggest regrets was that she had never traveled outside of New Zealand. I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to see the world. I’m going to discover my true potential.
Jenny retrieved a wood-handled pocket knife from her desk drawer and carefully cut the gray wrapping paper away. Inside was a shiny block of silver metal that was strangely warm. As Jenny touched it, a tone filled her head, not unlike the ringing in your ears after a loud concert. On top of the block was a card with her name on it. She picked it up, revealing a quarter-size depression in the otherwise perfect silver surface. Jenny opened the card and read it.
Jenny Tripper,
We seek gifted individuals to take part in a secret mission. If you are interested, use every one of your senses to solve the enclosed puzzle.
I look forward to meeting you on the other side,
Lance LaGrange,
Founder and Chief Executive Officer
Cabin, Inc.
Secret mission? Is this part of the puzzle? She examined the box. There didn’t appear to be a single seam or mark anywhere on the metal block, nothing to open or rotate. Nothing but that quarter-size depression. Maybe it’s a button. Jenny pushed her finger into it, and something jabbed her fingertip.
“Ouch!” Jenny
screamed and jerked her hand back. She squeezed her finger, and a drop of blood bloomed from the tip. She looked closely at the depression. Something black oozed from the tip of a hypodermic needle. What the hell?
A strange humming filled her mind, and the edges of the room became fuzzy. The silver block glimmered with fugitive lights deep within. The air shattered into thousands of crystal fragments that coalesced into a woman who smiled and said, “Hello, Jenny Tripper. My name is Lin Yuan Song.” The woman stood on the floor facing Jenny, looking as real as herself. A large white collar stretched across her black suit like the wings of an albatross. “You have been selected to take part in a test that will determine your candidacy for a special mission.” Lin’s dark brown, almond eyes looked through Jenny as she spoke, as if not seeing her
“Hello?” Jenny waved her hand in front of Lin, but the woman didn’t even blink in response. “Can you hear me?” Jenny looked over at Sally, who shrugged in response.
“We’ve been looking for people with an exceptional genetic background.”
Jenny sat down on her bed. The holographic display of Lin remained between her and the silver block. It must be some sort of augmented reality projector, she thought.
“Unique markers in your mother’s genome brought you to our attention, and our agent, Michael Creme, has verified that your mental disorders are indicative of a latent ability.”
Michael? Jenny’s mouth dropped open. She felt violated and intrigued all at once. What do they mean by “latent ability”?
The woman disappeared and was replaced by the same stylized logo of a cabin that was on the package. The logo faded, and a tall, handsome, dark-haired man, probably in his thirties, phased into view. Like Lin, he stared straight ahead as he spoke.
“Hello Jenny, I am Lance LaGrange, owner and CEO of Cabin. I wish you luck on the test, and I look forward to welcoming you as a member of our team.”
A thrill ran through Jenny. Somebody thought she was more than a fortune-teller. Somebody believed in her. Not like her aunt. Not like her mom.
Sally waved her arms excitedly and pointed at Lance LaGrange.
“I know,” Jenny said to Sally. “This whole thing seems crazy. It must be some elaborate hoax.”
The ghost sighed heavily and crossed her arms in response.
Lance faded away and Lin reappeared. “We are assembling a team of unique young people with potential abilities. Abilities that are needed to save a group of people called Selkans. In exchange for your help, Cabin promises to develop your natural talents and cure your ailments.”
Could they really cure me? And what about my mom?
“You have seventy-two hours to solve the VRGo puzzle. After completing the test, you should pack supplies for at least two days before you enter—”
Aunt Bea shook Jenny’s shoulders. “Jenny, wake up.”
Jenny blinked and looked around. Lin was gone. The message had ended. Was it all just a hallucination? Jenny wondered.
“Jenny?”
“What?” Jenny glared at her aunt. “Why’d you barge in here?”
“You were in some sort of trance. I knocked and called your name, but you didn’t answer.” Bea looked at the strange box on Jenny’s desk. “What is that thing?”
“That’s what Michael delivered.” The cube had ceased glowing.
“Why’d you scream?” Bea asked.
“I poked my finger.” Jenny held the finger with the drop of blood out for Bea to see.
“Well, wash it off and get yourself presentable. Rebecca will be here any minute.”
Jenny took a long, slow breath. “Fine. I’ll be downstairs in ten minutes.”
“Make it five.”
“Fine, now get out,” Jenny said as she pushed her aunt out of the room and closed the door.
3
Job Offer
People flocked to Lan Station with visions of striking it rich mining the asteroids. Others dreamed of touring the galaxy. The station’s residents made their living providing food, drink, and pleasure to these entrepreneurs and tourists. Jack Spriggan knew all these people had one thing in common: they flew spaceships, and ships needed maintenance. So he’d done the logical thing and opened a repair shop.
Jack turned on a hot-water kettle and arranged a reusable filter over a glass urn. As a member of Lan Station’s Coffee Enthusiast’s Club, he had recently learned how to make a pour-over. While he waited for the pot to heat, Jack looked out through the skylight of his loft.
When you lived on a rotating space station, up was the same thing as the center. And at the center of the space station was the Terminal, where hundreds of spaceships swarmed like insects. Small black fighters escorted green cargo ships. White cruise ships carried tourists to faraway destinations. The control station configured them into a sphere to maximize the efficiency of each activation.
As Jack watched, the blue glow of the Terminal intensified. For a moment, everything in the workshop took on a blue hue. Then the Terminal climaxed in a flash of brilliant white. The ball of ships disappeared, and in its place, a massive pill-shaped warship appeared along with its strike group.
Jack recognized it as one of the Terminal Defenders. At a length of 1,914 meters and with a beam of 610 meters, it reached from one side of the station to the other. With crews of over ninety-six thousand each, the Defenders were cities unto themselves. These warships were impressive, but what truly made them formidable was their ability to teleport short distances through space on their own. They were the only ships capable of this feat, and it allowed them to jump behind their enemies, or away from projectiles, making them undefeated in battle. Terminals, however, were still required for traveling the thousands of light-years between systems.
Jack turned from the skylight, lifted the kettle, and poured hot water over his ground coffee, careful to avoid the light spots where the coffee was blooming. He leaned over and inhaled the rich aroma as the brew dripped into a stained ceramic mug. Too bad the beans are flavorless crap, Jack thought. If I ever get planetside, the first thing I’m going to do is buy my weight in gourmet coffee.
Taking his steaming mug, Jack climbed down the stairs from his living quarters to his workshop. Lan Station’s pods measured forty meters wide, twenty meters tall, and eighty meters long. They were attached by spokes strung to the outside of the station. With the Terminal being tidally locked, one side always faced the star, leaving the other in shadow. Dark side pods were considered unsuitable for living, so they were primarily used for storage, and they were cheap. It was all Jack could afford.
A narrow window to his left provided a glimpse of his ship. It was a Harbinger. Back in his home system of Balt, harbingers were large birds of prey. Even before he’d enlisted as a pilot in the First Galactic War, Jack was in love with the mighty warcraft. Like the birds, the ships were known for their stealth. Their armor and shield technology absorbed and reflected radar and lidar signals. Active cooling systems concealed their heat signatures. Cloaking devices hid their electromagnetic radiation. Their hulls were capable of shifting color from white to black. With its thrusters off, his Harbinger was invisible to all forms of detection.
Jack had trained hard to become one of Balt’s best pilots and had created a name for himself. He was proud to serve under fleet admiral Brigham Newton, who had led them to victory after victory. Piloting his ship into battle, confident of Admiral Newton’s plans, Jack had felt alive in those days. But not even the invincible Newton could win against Tyr. After the war, Jack’s home system, Balt, had been forced to retire its entire fleet. He’d pulled some strings, bought a Harbinger before it was scrapped, and named her the Celestial Strider.
One positive thing came from Tyr winning the war, for the first time in Jack’s memory, there were peace and prosperity in the galaxy. Jack was even getting used to the idea of being ruled by Tyr.
Jack pulled his eyes away from the Celestial Strider and checked the day’s schedule on a data tablet. I’m scheduled more than a
month out, he noted. Just then, the pod door chimed. And there’s the first client of the day. Jack climbed down the stairs.
The heavy pod door slid into the wall. A birdlike alien, called an Avian, stood in the corridor. He held a box in his feathery hands and looked more frantic than was typical for his species. “Are you Jack Spriggan?”
“I am.”
“I—I heard you could fix anything.”
There wasn’t much Jack couldn’t fix, given the right tools and parts. And what he didn’t have, he could mostly manufacture in his own shop. “That’s true.” Jack sipped his coffee.
“I need your help.” The Avian lifted the box up to Jack. His beak clicked in anticipation, and a crest of feathers rose from his neck. “The last shop told me that a replacement will take weeks to arrive, and no one else will even touch it.”
“Let me see.” Jack set his mug down and took the Avian’s part out of the box. He turned it over, pulled on a lever, and looked inside. To get at the coil, Jack thought, I’ll have to disassemble the ignitor. He removed the access panel and pulled the actuation lever back. A spring shot into the air. Jack caught it. “I can have it fixed by this afternoon—”
“Thank you, thank you, Jack. It’s true, you are the best.”
“As long as you have the money,” Jack finished.
“How much?”
Jack looked the part over. It was an ignitor from the engine of an ice hauler. I bet they’re losing money every minute. “Three fifty.”
The Avian’s eyes went wide, but he nodded. “Okay, okay. Please hurry. My job is on the line.”
Jack retrieved his tablet and handed it to the alien. “Fill this out.”
As the Avian filled out the form, Jack set the part on his worktable. “You need a new coil. Lucky for you, I can mill one.”
The Key of Astrea Page 3