“Once in an age, the forces of darkness align
to bend the arc of history...”
—From the Diary of Neuchar de Merlner, Europa, 2121
In
2177, that alignment broke the Princess.
***
“C’mon, Littlebit,” Meriel said, dodging cargo haulers and
puddles as she dragged her little sister to their ship from the play area across
the dock. They were late. The boarding siren had already sounded.
Meriel slowed when she saw their mother waving from the
cargo-bay door. She smiled and relaxed. This was home, a merchant ship called
the Princess, crewed by seven families working a circuit between Luyten’s
Star and Sirius. The two girls paused at the air lock and brushed their hands
past their foreheads in a child’s salute to the officer on deck, their mother,
the XO.
“’Mission to come aboard, ma’am,” Meriel said, but Elizabeth
had already turned away, distracted by the symbol of a cat’s eye in light blue
on a cargo crate.
“Granted,” their mother said and hurried them through the
boarding checklist while dockhands detached the umbilicals behind them.
Once inside the Princess, Meriel’s world opened up to
the familiar bustle of cargo lashing and comm chatter in preparation for the hyperspace
jump to Enterprise Station. She closed her eyes and danced her way to their
cabin, running one hand over the nicked walnut railing and the other hand over the
fabric walls covered with children’s artwork. The tips of her fingers brushed
the corner of Tommy’s drawing—a fire breathing dragon melting a knight in armor—and
the rough texture of Anita’s first creation: her name written with a backward n
in letters larger than the sunflower drawn just above it. And behind Meriel,
little Elizabeth copied every move.
Surrounded by the familiar background chatter about mass,
vectors, and fuel capacity, Meriel dreamed that she captained the Princess
and plotted their course to Enterprise. With her arms out and eyes still
closed, she rode the quantum path to their first jump point, but collided with
something big and soft that should not have been there. She opened her eyes and
looked up to see Uncle Ed’s smiling face just before Elizabeth collided into
her.
“Hey, lassies,” he said, his long arms hugging both of them.
“Course correction needed.” He looked over their heads to her mother behind
them. “Sis, we’ve still got thirty-Z of memory unfilled.”
“What’s the bid?” her mother asked.
“Not good. But it’s something. Maybe we’ll get lucky on the
beacon pickup.”
Esther frowned and nodded. “OK, girls, on to bed,” she said
and shooed them to their cabin to put on their pj’s. This was the time Meriel
loved most, the quiet time before sleep and jump when their mother belonged to
them alone.
“Meriel, did you find Elizabeth’s doll?” her mother asked and
tucked her into her sleep net.
“Yes, Mom, but Liz was a brat and didn’t want to come,”
Meriel said.
Her sister mimed, “Blah, blah, blah” with her fingers and
rolled her eyes.
“Hey, birthday girl, your sister’s in charge when your
father and I aren’t around,” she said to Elizabeth. “Hear me now?”
“Yes, Mama,” Elizabeth said with a frown. “Where are we
going next?”
“Enterprise, hon,” her mother said.
“You’ll have fun there, Liz. It’s a lot like Lucky,” Meriel
said, referring to the system hub for Luyten’s star, “but much better sims.”
“Time for sleep, girls. Take your tranq,” her mother said
and pointed to the tranquilizers on their pillows that would ease the
disorientation of the jump. “Which song would you like tonight?”
“‘Home,’ Mama, please,” Meriel said, and her mother began
the familiar nursery rhyme.
Veiled in
mist, her star arises,
Past the cloud that shelters Home.
Cradled in
the giant’s nursery,
See there near the Seven Sisters…
When her mother pointed her finger, Meriel closed her eyes
and imagined flying toward a planet. “What’s it like, Mom?”
Esther took each of the girls’ hands in hers. “Well, you can
run all day in a straight line through fields of grain and never run out of
room. The days are warm, and you can feel the sun on your bare arms. Little
insects buzz near your ears, and it smells of wheat and flowers. Home has two
moons, and some nights you can read by moonlight…”
Elizabeth snored softly, which was her mom’s cue that they
were both sleeping, but Meriel had palmed her tranq and lay still, pretending
to sleep.
“Esther, bridge, please.” Meriel heard her father’s voice on
the comm.
“Coming, Captain,” her mother said, and then she kissed her
daughters on their foreheads.
After her mother left, Meriel rose from her bunk and
followed her to the bridge, where she found her usual hiding place behind the
communications console.
***
“It’s too damn hard here, Ed,” Meriel’s father said.
“Mike’s right,” Uncle Ed said. Ed was her mother’s brother,
the manager, and excepting God, he knew more about the financial health of the
ship than anyone. “We’re living on the edge now. We need a different route.”
“The Pacific League will not give us another route,” her
mother said.
“Damn ’em to hell then,” Ed said. “We need a different
league.”
“You can’t just up and switch leagues,” her father said.
Meriel heard footsteps pacing the bridge. “We need a cargo that we can trade on
a new route. Profits will give us standing with a new league. Without that,
we’re stuck with this route.”
“Drugs?”
“Pharmaceuticals, genomics,” her mother said, “and legal.”
“Of course, Esther.”
“What about Home?” her mother asked.
“Come on, Sis,” her uncle said. “Those fantasies again?”
“It might be real.”
“There’s no way someone could keep an earthlike planet so
well hidden. Nothing that important could stay off the grid for this long.
Besides, you have no clue how to find it.”
“Someone does. We just need the orientation. I just received
something that—”
“It’s real!” Meriel heard the quiet gasp and turned to see Elizabeth
hiding behind her. Meriel put a finger to her lips but smiled.
Uncle Ed continued. “We’re spacers, Esther. We’re not made
for the dirt.”
“Maybe just a home base, not a home,” her mother said. “We
have nothing if our route fails. A few bad trips and we’re working the docks,
and the kids—”
“Then let’s not have any bad trips,” her father said.
“That’s a lot of pressure on me, Michael.”
“Sorry, Ed,” her father said and turned to her mother.
“Esther, we won’t solve this tonight. I know it’s your dream, but we just can’t
bet on it yet.”
“How long to jump?”
“Ten minutes,” Aunt Joanna said from nav. “Time to strap
in.”
Meriel and Elizabeth sneaked back to their cabin and crawled
back into their sleep nets.
“Mom thinks it’s real,” Elizabeth said.
“No one else seems to,” Meriel said. “Take your tranq,
Littlebit. No faking this time.”
Elizabeth swallowed her pill. “Imagine running until I
drop!” she said. “What does wheat smell like?”
Meriel hit a few keys on her link to combine the smells of
wheat and jasmine with the sounds of crickets and the rustle of trees. She held
out her link between them so they could both experience it.
Real! Mom thinks the fairy tales of Home might be
real. Meriel closed her eyes and imagined running through an open field,
but when she did, the ground curved up a few hundred feet away, just like in a
space station. Gravity on a planet was just too hard to imagine without knowing
where the next handhold was in the event that artificial gravity failed and the
deck became the overhead. Meriel took the tranq and dreamed her mother’s dream
of Home while the Princess jumped into hyperspace.
The emergency claxon woke Meriel as they came out of the jump.
She got out of her bunk netting and reached for her sister in the dim, red
emergency lights, but her feet left the deck; they were zero-g. She grabbed for
a handhold to orient herself. Instead of the familiar hum from the engines and
whoosh of the ventilation, she heard a low pinging that rang through the entire
hull. The smell of ozone stung her nose. Something bad must have happened.
“Meriel! Liz! Come!” her mother whispered from the door of
their cabin. Esther had all of the kids tethered together with a safety line to
which Meriel and Elizabeth now clipped themselves. Her mother led them all to a
small service hatch behind maintenance-1, and they all climbed inside—noisy and
crying—and moored themselves to the bulkheads.
“Quiet, kids. Your parents will come for you soon,” her
mother said while cracking a lightstick. She turned to Meriel and put the
lightstick in her hand. “Meriel, you’re in charge when I’m gone, dear,” she
said. “You hear me, Liz?”
“Yes, ma’am,” her sister said and pressed her lips together.
“Mom, what is it?” Meriel said.
Her mother frowned. “It’s serious. Just keep them absolutely
quiet. I’ll be back in a minute,” she said. Then she went back through the
hatch, closed it, and left the children alone in the hold.
Meriel turned around to face the children. She raised her
hand for attention and tapped the shoulder of Elizabeth, who tapped the
shoulders of those near her.
She signaled for quiet using sign language in the dim light.
Little Harry was deaf and too young for implants, so the entire crew learned
sign language to help him. Tears can’t fall in zero-g, so Meriel wiped each of
their eyes and noses until the crying subsided to sniffles.
“Roll call,” Meriel signed.
The children raised their hands when their names were signed.
Including her sister, Elizabeth, there were eight of them: Tommy and Sam
Spurell, Penny Hubbard, Erik White, and little Harry in the lap of his older
sister, Anita. Except for little Harry, they were all over five years old, so
they understood what she was saying, but that didn’t mean they would behave for
Meriel, who was not quite twelve.
To distract them, Sam took out his communications link and
suspended it in the air to observe changes in orientation and acceleration.
When the maneuvering thrusters fired, the link appeared to rotate in the air,
though actually they and the ship were rotating around the link. The main
engines rumbled and gradually restored gravity, and the kids and the link
settled onto the deck.
“They’ll come soon,” Meriel signed. The kids began to relax
in the familiar one-g until they heard the bang of an ejecting escape pod.
“They’ve gone!” Penny said aloud. “They left us here!”
“No! They’d never leave us, ever,” Meriel replied in sign.
A few minutes later, her mother opened the hatch and crawled
back inside wearing a small lamp mounted on her forehead. She was sweaty and
breathing hard; her eyes dilated. She handed more light sticks to Meriel and
then sealed the hatch closed from the inside with a hand welder. When she finished
the welds, she sat and leaned back against the bulkhead, took a deep breath,
and winced. “Follow. Quiet,” she signed and led the children down the service
tunnel and around a corner from the hatch. Once past a rib along the hull, she
stopped and gathered the children.
“Your parents will come soon,” Esther signed. “Until then,
be very, very quiet. Meriel is my number two. Do what she says.” Esther gasped,
closed her eyes, and bit her lip. “Now, we wait for a signal.” She gathered the
comm links, pried off the talk buttons so they could only receive, and returned
them. Then she lay back and closed her eyes. “You might as well rest now, kids.
It may be a while.”
Her mother took Meriel’s arm and drew her close. Meriel
could see the tracks of tears in the dirt on her mother’s cheeks and new tears
forming. “You need to grow up fast now, hon,” Esther signed and reached around
the back of her neck to unfasten a necklace with a sim-chip, a key, and a tiny
medal. She kissed the medal, and put the necklace around Meriel’s neck. “It’s
all here, M. If no one comes, wait at least a half hour. If it grows colder
than you can stand, move immediately. Understand?”
“Mom, why would no one come?” Meriel whispered in her
mother’s ear, but her mother only put her finger to her lips.
“The hatch here opens only from the inside,” Esther whispered.
“Cargo-2 is on the other side. Go to E-48 next to the galley. Find the
alt-bridge behind the panel in the cold locker. Use the key to get in. Put the
chip in the nav slot. Princess will jump one minute later, so be sure to
tell the kids to secure themselves. Tranq is in the drawer under the monitor.
Got it?”
The comfort that Meriel had felt earlier evaporated. “Why
can’t you do this, Mom?”
Esther took Meriel’s hand and signed, “I maybe cannot,
sweetheart.” She cringed again, and Meriel could hear the raspiness and
gurgling in her voice now.
“What about Home?” Meriel signed.
“It’s all on the chip, hon,” her mother said aloud. She took
Elizabeth’s hand to draw her closer. “Help your sister, Liz. She’ll need it.”
Elizabeth nodded. Her mother lay back against the bulkhead and began to hum the
melody of their favorite lullaby. “You remember the words, girls?” The sisters
nodded. “Have faith…and never leave them.”
Esther’s headlight dimmed and Meriel used the light sticks
to keep all the kids in sight. They sniffled in the dim light while huddling
close together in the chilly hold and whimpered when the cargo loaders and
hatches banged. But the sniffling eventually stopped, the kids got quiet and
fell asleep, and Meriel dozed off.
[1] OOD:
officer on deck. The OOD is the ship’s officer in charge of the bridge during a
shift and serves as the direct representative of the captain. In general, the
OOD post is manned by, in seniority of rank, the captain, XO (executive officer
or first officer), second officer, or third officer. The captain will not stand
watch if a third officer is onboard.
[2] XO:
executive officer or first officer. This officer is next in command to the
captain.
(c) 2014, 2015 Benjamin R. Strong, Jr.
(c) 2014, 2015 Benjamin R. Strong, Jr.
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