The Girl Who Wasn't There

by G Scott Huggins

  “Well done,” Mr. Hybels said. “I haven’t heard that argument before, but you substantiate it well. It’s certainly hard to argue that things would have gone the same way without the AI War.” He sighed. “Well, between our, um, interesting beginning of class, and two presentations, we seem to have run out of time. Next period we will hear from those who were scheduled but did not have a chance to present. Class dismissed.”

  Paul packed up and waited for Jael. He found the rest of his classmates waiting for him outside.

  “Paul, we were just discussing where to go for Afters,” said Kseniya. “Gymnasium? Game room? Or perhaps Zapf’s? And what do you say, Jael?”

  Paul thought that he could use a small beer after that presentation, which made having to shake his head a little more bitter. “We can’t. I have Duty today.”

  “After class?” said Yilong. “Your mother knows where you are, right?”

  “Don’t bother him,” said Jeremy sullenly, his face reddening. “After sucking up to the teacher and making the rest of us look bad, Mr. Deputy has a lot of work to do keeping us miner peons from drinking our betters’ water, no matter what the laws say.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Miller,” answered Jael. “Just because you couldn’t be bothered to do your classwork doesn’t mean you have to take it out on my brother. The only one calling people names around here is you, but if you’re going to make it personal, then shake the rock dust out from that cavity between your ears first. Leto’s Law was passed to keep people from going thirsty, not so that your folks could haul it home by the liter for their earthshine distillery and sell it back.”

  Jeremy flushed harder. “Ain’t none of your business how we make our money. Nor how thirsty we are when we get here. But you can talk all you want to and know you’re safe, spastic girl. Unless you’re dumb enough to think that kicking that bouncer crybaby’s butt up between his ears makes you anything more than one cripple beating up another cripple. I wouldn’t bruise my knuckles.”

  Paul stepped forward. “Apologize. Now.”

  Jeremy sneered. “Make me, deputy. Or are you gonna arrest me in that nice, shiny uniform? I commit some kind of a crime? Ain’t no law against calling an ugly cripple ugly. So you better step back, ‘less you want I get blood on that nice outsuit of yours.”

  Paul’s blood pounded in his ears. “I don’t need the law to make you eat those words, Miller. What say we just call this a fair fight?”

  “Fine by me, fancy-boy.”

  Paul looked at Miller. The bigger boy was probably half again his mass, which wasn’t always an advantage on the Moon. But none of it was fat, and the rock-miners didn’t usually even need to do extra exercise. That was something so many Earthers didn’t understand. Moving around in one-sixth gee didn’t mean you did less work. It just meant that if you did a job that required heavy lifting, you spent your days carrying around half-ton loads instead of two-hundred-pound loads. So if Jeremy hit him square on, it was going to hurt. And Jeremy was no bouncer.

  But he wasn’t about to let the insult to his sister pass, and he wasn’t going to let Jael fight him, either, though she certainly looked mad enough to try.

  Still, he might as well turn as much of the bigger boy’s advantage against him as he could. “You need any rules, Miller? No feet? No holds? I mean, I wouldn’t want you claiming police brutality or anything.”

  Jeremy’s face flushed brick red. “I can take anything you can throw at me, boy cop.”

  “Well, I’m waiting right here for you,” said Paul.

  Jeremy lashed out with his left hand, fingers open in a clutching grip. Paul slid back. The worst thing that could happen in this fight would be letting Jeremy grab him and punch him repeatedly. If that happened, Paul would be asking Jael to carry him home.

  Paul threw a light punch, smacking harmlessly into Jeremy’s upper arm. Jeremy answered by grabbing with his right hand but was robbed of some of his power by his previous twist to the right. This time, Paul struck with the bladed palm of his right hand and caught Jeremy just below the wrist. Jeremy yelled at the unexpected, stinging pain and shook out his hand. Paul tried not to do the same, though intercepting the rock miner’s blow had numbed two of his fingers. Even in a soft spot like that, Jeremy’s muscles were like steel wires.

  “Cute,” Jeremy muttered. “How about we see how fast you run?” He waded in, both fists raised, his forearms like big, meaty shields. Jeremy kicked out at his knee. The blow landed, and Jeremy hissed in pain, but he lashed out with a fist. Paul ducked left, but the hammer-blow still landed on his right shoulder, spinning him around. Wincing, he drew his arms and legs in, letting the force of the blow spin him faster. He lashed out with his left foot and kicked Jeremy in the side just as the bigger boy recovered from the momentum of his own punch. Paul’s shoulder was a burning ache, and he knew he’d let his opponent in too close. Tiring out Jeremy was only playing to his strengths. He had to take control of the fight.

  Paul dropped, the Lunar gravity not helping, and managed to kick out at Jeremy’s ankle just as a grappling hand passed over his hair. The bigger boy stumbled and began to fall. Paul grabbed an outflung wrist and yanked, sending Jeremy skidding past him at the same time he pulled himself up. Cursing, the bigger boy scrabbled at the deck and turned himself around.

  Paul leapt for the ceiling.

  It was a risky move, he knew. He hit the ceiling palms out and looked down just in time to see Jeremy, fire in his eyes, leap to his feet a little too fast. Jeremy’s face rose to meet Paul just as he rebounded from the ceiling, both feet kicking out.

  Paul bounced off Jeremy’s face and backflipped. The bigger boy fell back, nose trailing blood in a lazy arc, shoulders bouncing off the deck. Paul landed and took two bounding steps, landing on the bigger boy’s chest, fist raised.

  “You give?” Paul grunted. “Are we done here?”

  Jeremy touched his nose and groaned as he saw the blood glistening on it. “Yeah, all right. We’re done.”

  Paul rose. First blood had been drawn; honor was satisfied. Paul extended a hand and helped the bigger boy to his feet under the gaze of his watching classmates.

  Just beyond them in at the cross-corridor, a girl stood watching with her mouth slightly parted.

  Paul’s eyes locked on to her. Another new student, who’d just missed the lesson? Paul was certain he’d never seen her before; he would have remembered if he had. She was beautiful, her dark hair coming to a point almost between her eyes. He looked away just as her eyes met his. He didn’t want everyone staring and scaring her off. Besides, he had to finish this.

  Jeremy looked disgusted with himself as he dabbed at his swollen nose and met Paul’s eyes. “Sorry,” he grunted.

  Paul gave the required answer. “No hard feelings. And…?” he prompted.

  Jeremy turned to Jael. “Sorry for what I said.”

  “Apology accepted,” said Jael evenly. Paul could tell she wasn’t in the mood to forgive, but she knew better than to throw someone’s apology back in his teeth.

  “Okay, we have to go,” said Paul, a little faster than normal. He picked up his backpack and winced in pain at even its light pull on his injured shoulder. She couldn’t have gone far. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder to Jael. Trying for a gait that would balance between casual and fast, he strode down the corridor, feeling his friends’ stares at his back and hearing Jael’s stumping gait, not heeding her cries to wait, for once.

  But when he got to the cross-corridor, it was empty, and only a patrolling Secutor moved down its length. The girl was gone.

  Chapter 5

  The Regulations of Robotics

  “I don’t see what’s so strange about you seeing a girl, though,” said Jael. “We know at least one new student arrived today. Maybe her family just hasn’t figured out what classes she should be in yet. Or maybe she’s older than you thought and not interested in school.”

  “That’s not the point, sis,” said Paul. “The point is th
at I didn’t see her when we went around the corridor.”

  “Not seeing a girl is even less unusual than seeing one,” said Jael. “I don’t have to explain that, do I?”

  “But she should have been there unless she ran for it. And why would she do that? More importantly, how would she do that without falling on her face if she just got here from Earth? Denariis was barely walking.”

  “Maybe she looked you directly in the face.”

  “That’s the thanks I get for defending your honor, huh?” Paul said.

  “I don’t need you defending me!” Jael slapped the door to their quarters open before he could respond, burning with shame she couldn’t explain and didn’t want to think about.

  Their mother was arguing with the mayor.

  “Yes, Aizehar, I actually do know something about the pressures that you’re under because you are always kind enough to pass those pressures along to me. No, I’m not trying to be disrespectful.” She sighed. “Look, I understand that Wegerd-Dubrauni is what’s making this colony grow right now. The problem is that they understand it, too. What they don’t understand is that they can’t have everything that they want. If they want better security from me, then they have to give me more control. And that does mean trusting me a bit more than they do, which is not at all.”

  The Mayor’s voice was a tinny buzz, barely audible over the office speakers. “You can’t blame them for being concerned, Erevis. They’re building the first ship capable of mining an asteroid, you know.”

  Jael could hear their mother trying to layer patience on top of the frustration that loaded her voice. “Yes, I know that, Aizehar. But they’re not being ‘concerned,’ they’re being paranoid. What else do they want from me? I’ve signed every non-disclosure agreement they’ve sent over to me and agreed to penalty clauses that would bankrupt my family if I let one iota of knowledge pass my lips. What should I do? Promise to space one of my children if I leak their plans?”

  Paul looked sideways at Jael. “Well, that’s one way of getting out of being grounded.”

  “At least we already know which one of us she means,” Jael grumbled back. And it wouldn’t be Mom’s Perfect Little Deputy, either, she thought.

  She saw Paul’s eyes darken imperceptibly and knew she was being unfair. After all, it wasn’t as if Paul had asked for Mother’s favor, or to be her deputy. He wasn’t the type to go kissing up to adults for brownie points. He just got it. And no one had asked her for the birth trauma that had scrambled the nerves in her brain, either. She just got it. Her fingers flexed around the grips of her crutches in frustration. How did Paul find it so easy to act like an adult: always responsible, always reliable? She couldn’t stand it. Was it because he was treated like an adult that he could act like one? Or was it because he acted like one because her mother treated him like one?

  “Aizehar, I need your back-up here. If they’re worried about the problem—and I am too—then they need to let me inspect the shipyard. Or at least give me the ability to drive the Secutors in the shipyard. That way I can see what it is they’re reacting to in real-time. Otherwise, Gavin has to comb through the service logs and tease out what all that raw data means, and that takes time. The simple fact is that they can have better active security and give me access, or they can have tighter information control and deny me. They cannot have both of those things, because they are opposites.”

  “You don’t need to talk to me like a child, Erevis,” said the mayor, tightly.

  “I’m not trying to talk to you like a child,” their mother said. “I’m trying to put the problem in terms I think the executives at Wegerd-Dubrauni would understand. Now I will do what I can, as fast as I can. In fact, I already am doing that. But if they want more and faster, then I have to have more and faster methods at my disposal.”

  “They won’t like it.”

  “Then we will all have the same problem. I’m on your side. In fact, I’m on their side. We’re all supposed to be the same side here, against actual thieving criminals, right?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” said the mayor. “Good-bye.”

  They heard their mother groan as the call ended.

  “Gavin,” she called. “I’m going to shoot the mayor!”

  “Well, you’re going to have to wait for a couple of hours, dear,” their father called back. “I haven’t quite got the power flow for the magcoils regulated yet. They’re still too dangerous.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted him tranquilized,” their mother said, stepping out of her office. She stopped as she saw her children waiting in the hallway.

  “Hi, Mom,” said Paul, a little too heartily. “How’s your day going?”

  Their mother quirked a humorless smile at him. “Just wonderfully, as you no doubt heard. How were the presentations?”

  “Oh, they went all right,” said Paul.

  “His went perfect,” said Jael, managing to keep most of the envy from her voice. “Mr. H said it was exemplary.”

  “Good work, Paul.” Her gaze sharpened slightly. “And yours, Jael?”

  “Well, we had a little excitement in class today,” she said. “And we didn’t get to mine.” There. She hadn’t lied, and now she wouldn’t have to be afraid that something might slip that would reveal to her mother that she hadn’t presented yet.

  “Oh? What happened?”

  Jael and Paul took turns telling the story of Denariis’ appearance.

  “And then Jael kicked him against the wall and threw him out,” Paul said.

  Jael enjoyed a rare, admiring look from their mother. “Did you? Well, it sounds like he had it coming. I could wish it wasn’t one of my children who had done it.”

  Jael slumped.

  “No, Jael, that’s not criticism for you. Maybe a little bit for your teacher. I know you like him—” she held up a hand, forestalling their protests. “It’s just that if I get a complaint about the boy being hurt—and if that’s how he’s acting in public, I probably will—then I’m going to be seen as your mother rather than as Chief of Security. But it’s Mr. H’s class, and I’m not going to interfere with him.” Jael brightened again.

  “Now I’ve got to send you out, Paul, to look at the Secutors.”

  “Do we really have to inspect every single one?” Paul asked.

  “Absolutely,” their mother replied. “I haven’t forgotten about your actions this morning. But this isn’t entirely make-work, either.”

  “What’s up, Mom?” asked Paul. Like Jael, he had apparently picked up on their mother’s troubled tone.

  “You heard the conversation I was having with the mayor?” They nodded. “Well, I’d like you to forget that you heard it. And you cannot repeat it under any circumstances. You know the limitations I have to work with at Wonka’s.”

  “You’ve told me they won’t let you use the MARTINet to access any Secutor that’s in there, right?”

  “Yes. Wegerd-Dubrauni really doesn’t want to risk that any details of their new ship will get out. They want to be able to start mining the asteroid belt as far ahead of any possible competition as they can. That’s why they don’t have any workers: they built the shipyard to be completely automated.”

  “Why do they call it Wonka’s?” asked Paul. “That’s not short for Wegerd, is it?”

  Mother’s lips parted in what was almost a smile. “I see we neglected the classics in your childhood,” she said. “Long story.”

  “But I thought that Dad was working on their ship,” said Jael. “Isn’t that what he spends most of his time doing?”

  “That’s right,” said Gavin as he walked into the room. He held a box full of shining, freshly printed parts. “But I don’t know what these parts do. They send me specifications: things like required materials, measurements, and sometimes requests for design work. Oh, I can figure out a few of them, and guess on a dozen more. But in general, they tell me what to print, and I run it through the omniprinter.” He jerked a thumb back to where the closet-sized mac
hine dominated the room.

  “Then they send their cargo trams around the corridors, and I load it up. They’re doing it on purpose, of course, so that no one person can know how they plan to assemble the parts into working systems. I doubt more than a dozen people have access to the full design of this ship, and they are all on Earth, being paid a great deal of money to ensure their loyalty.”

  “I can’t argue with what they’re doing in theory,” their mother said. “The best way to make sure you don’t have security leaks from on-site workers is, well, not to have any. So they’re farming out their parts-making to everyone who has an omniprinter and a halfway decent work ethic. Which saves money, too, of course,” she said.

  “Well, what choice do they have?” Gavin said reasonably. “The only other way to get the kind of security they want would be to run Wonka’s as their own self-contained colony, completely isolated from anyone else. I’m not sure you could pay people enough to work under those conditions.”

  “But,” Mrs. Wardhey said, “whatever their reasons, this cottage industry of theirs means that they have to have active security. Because they do get materials delivered from the outside, and they can’t afford the possibility that someone will send a spidrone, or even a person, in with one of the shipments to find out all those secrets that they don’t want getting out.”

  “Why don’t they just have their own security measures?” asked Paul.

  “Because that would be more expensive and less secure,” said Mother. “To make sure that nothing unauthorized gets in, the shipments are inspected upon leaving the colony as well as when they arrive at the shipyard. That means that either their security would have to interface with ours…”

  “Which would make it vulnerable,” said their father.

  “…or, they would have to have their security permanently in the colony.”

  “Which the colony won’t permit, and for good reason,” their father said. “It’s bad enough that the colony administration watches us so much. Can you imagine if a corporation was doing it, too?”