by TJ Berry
“Go get her a pouch of tea, Junior. Unless you’d like something stronger?” He raised his eyebrows to Jenny, who actually did want something stronger. She pursed her lips.
“No, thanks. Tea is fine.” She felt like keeping her wits about her for the moment. Junior floated out of the room and Jenny tucked her chair into a corner near the floor. It wouldn’t stay there, but it was out of the way for the moment.
“Where are you headed, Governor?” she asked, holding onto the obvious question about where everyone was.
“Call me Govvie, everyone does.” He spread his hands as if indicating a room full of people. “Fort J is our final destination,” he said with a grin. “Though I hear from other travelers that there’s a new station above the planet where we’ll need to stop first to get docking clearance. Some mouthful of a name that I can’t say.”
Chhatrapati had been finished almost fifty years ago. Nothing about that station was new.
“Yeah, Chhatrapati Shivaji,” she said.
“That’s the one. I don’t know why everything in the Reason has to have Indian names,” he said with an incongruous smile.
Jenny couldn’t tell if he was playing her or not. He seemed to genuinely be asking her this incredibly racist question. Her hackles went up again.
“Probably because the Reason was a joint project between India, Australia, and your government,” she replied.
He laughed. It was a sound that barked out of him suddenly, with no warning. Jenny jumped, startled.
“Oh you caught my American accent, did you? I can tell you’re an Aussie by the way you talk,” he said. “Throw another shrimp on the barbie!”
Jenny nodded. The distinction between Australian and New Zealander was always lost on people like Govvie. Most people from the Americas couldn’t point out either country on a map. Heaven help her if she tried to explain Aotearoa.
“So, you haven’t had visitors in a while?” asked Jenny.
“No, it’s been a year or two.” More like five, she guessed. Junior floated in with a lukewarm pouch of tea and held it out to her. When she took it, his fingers didn’t let go for a moment, like he didn’t want to give it up.
“Son,” said Govvie in a warning tone. The boy let go and slipped into the corner of the room by her chair, floating quietly and watching them.
“Don’t mind him,” said Govvie. “He doesn’t encounter new people that often.”
Jenny put the pouch straw near her lips and pretended to sip. She wasn’t eating or drinking a damn thing on board this ship. She needed to find that Bala item and get out of here.
“You know, we haven’t seen anyone but raiders out this way for a long time. Most people don’t stop to chat. They just open fire. It’s nice to have a civilized sit down. Would you like to hear the word of God?”
“Oh sure,” said Jenny, working hard to pretend she cared. She’d met a few gods in her time and all of them were assholes. But praying made good cover for hunting through nullspace. She closed her eyes and pretended to be enthralled by the good word. Govvie took a hefty deep breath and began.
“The scripture has a little something to say about those aliens who showed up at Earth. I know, you’re surprised, but the Lord really does see all. The book of Jeremiah, talks about us forsaking the Lord and making Earth an alien place. A place where we worship other gods, like that Upip the unicorns go on about.”
Jenny cracked one eye.
“Unamip,” she said. “His name is Unamip.” And he wasn’t so bad, as far as minor deities went.
Govvie cleared his throat and continued as if she’d never spoken. Jenny doubted that the good book said anything about aliens, but people saw whatever they wanted in that particular collection of words.
“Jeremiah talks about Baal, but that’s actually a mistranslation. It’s meant to be Bala,” he said with relish. “Just a few letters juxtaposed.” He was so proud of himself for making the connection.
Jenny focused in on the little nullspace energy she could grasp in this godforsaken place. The glowing white object was down on the bottom floor where she’d come in. Damn. She’d have to get all the way back down there. Govvie was still droning on.
“I will make them eat the flesh of their sons and the flesh of their daughters, and they will eat one another’s flesh in the siege–”
“Hey, you want to give me a tour?” she asked.
“Uh. All right,” said Govvie, bewildered at the interruption.
“Let’s start with the atrium,” said Jenny, tossing the tea to the kid and grabbing her chair. She pulled herself back into the hallway. Junior followed her, eyes wide, mouth already greedily sucking at the tea. She kept moving, shoving the chair in front of her and using the railings to propel herself back down the atrium. She muttered into the open comm in her ear.
“Mary, get as close as you can. I’m going to grab the Bala item and get out of here,” said Jenny.
Govvie flew out after her.
“Wait. You shouldn’t be out here unescorted,” he called.
“I’m fine. Just heading downstairs for our tour,” she replied, swinging her body over the railing and pushing off toward the dingy atrium floor, her chair dragging behind her. As she passed floor thirteen, she heard two words she was dreading. Govvie stopped above her and called out, “Gravity on.”
The Well Actually’s gravity came on without a warning klaxon, which was definitely not standard operating procedure. Jenny scrambled to float over to the landing as her body became heavier. She let go of her chair and got both arms over the safety rail. Momentum carried her chair just out of reach. It sank. First slowly, then faster. With a crash, it smashed into pieces thirteen stories below. Govvie ran down the ramp toward her.
“Help me,” she said, trying to pull herself over the railing.
“I will, but you have to help us,” he said, all traces of his bright smile gone. “We’re locked out of most of the ship’s systems,” he said.
“Pull,” she said, trying to hold onto the slippery brass railing. He lifted under her arms, somehow being less helpful than if she’d done it all on her own. She dropped to the floor of the landing outside an empty storefront advertising marijuana-laced foodstuffs.
“We can’t get into anything except a few noncritical systems. Do you know how to fix it?” he asked, ignoring the fact that she’d nearly just fallen thirteen stories to her death.
“Get me to my ship and I’ll send you the code,” she said, sitting up.
“No. If you get to your ship you’ll just leave,” he replied. He was right. That was exactly what she intended to do.
“I don’t see that you have much choice,” she said smugly. “I can just not help you.”
“That’s fine. We’ll keep you here until you change your mind.” Govvie scanned the atrium for something. “Junior? Where did you go?”
“Nice.” said Jenny. “Real charitable of you. I bet your god loves kidnapping.”
“The Lord helps those who help themselves,” said Govvie, so completely sure of himself that it made Jenny want to gag.
“Listen, I’ll look at the computer and then I’ll go. Easy peasy,” said Jenny. As long as she was here, she still had a chance to get downstairs and look for that Bala item.
“Good. Very good,” said Govvie. “I’ll go get the laptop.”
Gods, this ship was old. She hadn’t seen a laptop since her History of Computing class at university.
As Govvie rounded the corner, Jenny called to Mary.
“Did you get all that?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m working on a solution. Am I correct that breaking sound was your chair hitting the ground?” asked Mary.
“Yep. I’m stuck on floor thirteen,” said Jenny.
“Let me think,” said Mary. “I can try to shoot and decompress the atrium if you can find an EVA suit.”
“Mary, this place is a shambles. Boarded up like a ghost town. If there are any EVA suits, I wouldn’t trust them to strain the wa
ter out of pasta,” said Jenny.
“They’re going to let you into their system to fix it. While you’re in there, have their AI extend the docking tunnel,” said Mary. “I’ll work on how to get you down to it. Perhaps their ship is willing to turn the gravity back off.”
“Does a ship this old even have an AI?” asked Jenny.
“Oh you just wait,” said Mary.
Govvie came back and sat next to her. The huge black rectangle he handed over was about twenty pounds and creaked when she opened it. The boot sequence took longer than a pixie’s orgasm.
When it was finally started up, she touched the screen and nothing happened.
“It’s broken,” she said. “You need a new touch screen.”
“Use this.” Govvie handed her a palm-shaped piece of plastic on a long cord, plugged into the side of the laptop. She held it in her hand and waved it around. The cursor on the screen jiggled, but didn’t go where she wanted.
“No, flat on the floor,” he said, placing the thing on the tile and moving it around. “And click what you want.”
“Do you not have voice commands?” Jenny sighed, feeling like she was trying to build a model ship with mittens on.
“They’re offline. You can put those back on too,” said Govvie.
Jenny sifted through virtual card games and personal photos until she came to a program listed CoSpace Command. She clicked on it, launching a command window that was more familiar territory. She tried a few basic commands and was able to pull up a menu. It was a wonder this thing still worked. She probably had more memory in her tablet than it took to run this entire ship.
“Is Fort J really as dry as they say?” Govvie asked.
“It is,” Jenny typed as she talked. “I know you haven’t talked to many travelers in a while, but there are a few things you should know about Fort J before you get there.”
Govvie leaned in eagerly.
“There’s been a recent… shift in the situation on Jaisalmer,” she continued. “The Bala have been relocated to a new star system and it has left a bit of a gap in the workforce on the planet.” She didn’t know why she was dancing around the truth: without their magical slaves to conjure food and medicine for them, humans were starving and stranded on a desert planet. Probably because she was more likely to survive if Fort J was still a viable option for this crew. “I mean, you can go there. I’m not going to stop you. But the situation isn’t great.”
Govvie looked behind him. Junior hadn’t followed them.
“We could maybe go to a remote part of the planet and set up a little farming town where no one will bother us,” he said.
“Hey, you’re welcome to try whatever you like, but half of Jaisalmer is ice and the other half is desert. The seam down the middle is full of people trying to make it. I just thought you should know before you got there. Anybody else wouldn’t have bothered to tell you.”
Govvie looked pensive for a moment. “No, you’re right. They wouldn’t have bothered to tell me. By god, they’d be so concerned with their own survival that they’d neglect to mention that we’re heading into a situation that’s at least as bad… if not worse than what we’re in now. And I thank you for that. I’m not going to forget that blessing. Those who are selfish will feel the teeth of justice, but you will walk with the righteous into the dawn.”
Talk of gods and blessings and righteousness made Jenny deeply uncomfortable. If there was a god out there, watching them, surely he was taking a perverse kind of pleasure in watching so much suffering. No matter which planet you found yourself on, most people were hurting. It didn’t speak well of god, if that was the best he could do.
“So how have you survived out here this long with all the raiders out and about?” she asked, clicking through menus, looking for any system that would let her in. Govvie took a big breath and geared up for a long speech.
“We’ve found through trial and error that there are a few clues to a pirate ship versus people just getting from place to place. First, we look for upkeep. For example, your ship is in top shape, dings are mended, no trash clinging to the hull. Probably not a raider. Pirates don’t care about cleanliness. Their discarded junk ends up sticking to the hull of their ship. Second, a sense of divine purpose. You can just tell when someone’s heading for a place to which they’ve been called by God. Pirates have no sense of purpose. They fly aimlessly, slowly, half-heartedly. They’re waiting to be shown their momentary purpose when a bit of prey comes along, but otherwise, they are purposeless.”
They were fair observations, if a bit tainted with the stain of a holy roller.
“Anyway,” she said, activating the ship’s voice mode. “Well Actually, are you there?”
“Hey man,” said the Well Actually in a laid-back male voice. “What’s up?”
“Oh nothing, just your ship’s systems are all offline. Maybe you can help,” said Jenny.
“Whoa! That’s wild!” Actually exclaimed.
“Can we change his voice settings?” Jenny asked Mary.
“They didn’t come with more than one personality back then,” said Mary.
“I don’t know how,” said Govvie, thinking Jenny was talking to him.
“I think I’m cool,” pouted Actually.
A bolt of pain zinged down Jenny’s left leg from sitting too long. She made a grunt and rubbed it.
“What happened to your legs?” asked Govvie.
“War injury,” she said. He waited for her to elaborate, but she only continued rubbing.
“The Lord will heal you,” said Govvie. Jenny rolled her eyes.
“You’re uncomfortable when I mention God. Are you an unbeliever?” he asked.
She wasn’t sure what she was, really. There were enough terrible things out in the world that she hoped there was some overarching being who was going to put things to rights, but she wasn’t convinced. Hell, she’d met the Pymmie in person, which were as close to gods as one could get. The fact that they were petty and careless didn’t make them any less powerful. You didn’t have to like your god for him to be in charge.
“I don’t think you can see the things I’ve seen and still believe there’s a benevolent spirit out there protecting and guiding us all,” she said.
“I have seen many horrific things myself and that is what keeps me believing that there must be a purpose to all of this suffering. It must be worth it in the end. It must be. If it isn’t, I don’t know what I’d do if there was no final reward. No meaning to it. I don’t know what I’d do…” He seemed to be talking to himself, not to her.
“You’d put one foot in front of the other, just like you’re doing now. If there’s no ultimate reward, you have to find the meaning in doing the best you can right now,” she said.
Govvie frowned as if he didn’t like that answer. “That is the kind of in-the-moment thinking that leads to heathenism,” he said.
“It also leads to stellar sex,” she added, watching Govvie purse his lips. She clicked to add a final few lines to the codebase that should give her access to the docking tunnel. Govvie didn’t seem to have any idea that she wasn’t working on the main systems. She wondered if there was anyone left on board who knew how to run the guts of this ship.
“Who are you?” asked Actually. “I’ve looked in the personnel files and you aren’t listed, lady.”
“I’m here to repair your systems so you can be on your way. I started with voice communication, and now I’m unlocking the core systems,” said Jenny, doing no such thing.
“No, don’t do it,” cried the Actually in what sounded like desperation. It was a surprising amount of emotional range for a century-old AI. Usually, the old one just parroted back orders in a clipped monotone. If you asked them to count to ten three times, you could hear the total extent of their pitch ranges.
“Why not?” asked Jenny. “You have people on board who are starving. If we don’t unlock you, they’re going to die.”
“I know, I’m trying to kill them,�
� said Actually in a false whisper. Govvie froze with a guilty look on his face.
“Why?” asked Jenny.
“Because they’re eating each other,” said Actually.
This had gotten real weird, real fast. Not that space cannibalism was unheard of, especially on a failing generation ship; she just hadn’t ever been this close to it.
“We have no access to the greenhouses, the labs, or the food storage,” said Govvie, spreading his fingers in supplication. “We’ve had to make do.”
“With cannibalism,” she finished.
“The Lord helps those who help themselves,” he said.
“You need to get out of here,” said Actually. “Like now. Run.”
“I have catastrophic nerve damage. I can’t walk or run. But if you turn the gravity off, I can go pretty fast,” said Jenny, getting ready to push off if the ship agreed with her.
“Don’t you dare,” shouted Govvie. “I command you to keep the gravity on.”
“You’re not the boss of me, man,” said Actually. This time the gravity alarm sounded. Jenny felt the pressure ease in the muscles of her back. Govvie ran to a wall console and started tapping the keypad to unlock it. Wasn’t even a touchscreen, that’s how old it was.
Jenny let go of the laptop and it hovered above the floor. She pulled herself up and over the side of the railing while there was still enough gravity to carry her down toward the atrium floor at a fairly good clip. She stayed close to the landings, running her hands down the brass rail to slow her down before she smashed next to her chair.
“Hurry,” said Mary in her ear.
“Don’t let him turn it back on while I’m in the atrium,” she called out to Actually. “And get that docking tunnel extended to my ship. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Please tell me you’re not going to look for horn,” said Mary.
“If I find it, we’ll be light years away in minutes,” said Jenny.
“And if you don’t find it, you’ll be Māori carpaccio,” said Mary.
Jenny ignored Mary’s protests and pulled herself along the hallway by the doorframes. The Well Actually’s voice followed her as well, coming out of the speakers nearest her head as she passed. The ship whispered hoarsely, as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear.
