by Ann Aguirre
I felt . . . something. Not my own emotion. It was like a shadow had brushed over me, but a shadow on my soul, not on my skin. Took me a second to identify what it was, but I recognized the feeling instinctively: Nadim. And Nadim was sad. There had been some talk of possibly perceiving a ship’s emotions in training, but damned Deluca had kept me from absorbing as much as I should during my Earthside sessions.
It felt weird. And at the same time, it felt like something I’d always, unconsciously, needed—sound, where there’d only been silence. Presence, where there’d been loneliness. I didn’t know why. In the training they’d talked about it as some kind of thing to be avoided. Why would anyone avoid this? Was it dangerous?
“I would be unhappy to lose you so quickly,” he told me. “You are . . .” He hesitated, as if he didn’t quite know how to put it. “Bright.”
“Bottom of my class,” I muttered. “Sure. I’m bright.”
“That is not what I—”
Nadim’s voice got cut off midsentence as Marko turned toward me and said, “Zara? Beatriz and I were discussing meals. Nadim has more than enough food stores, so you can eat well during your Tour. They’re prepack, vacuum-seal meals, but . . .” Marko lifted his hands. “You get used to it. The WHSC tried to stock things you like.”
A shiver of amusement ran down my back. Nadim’s feeling, not mine. I was going to have to figure out how to push that away, if I wanted to keep my distance. “Hey!” I said, and turned around, not sure where to face him. “Food’s important to us. What do you eat?”
“Starlight,” he said, in that calm, warm voice. “Your sun is quite young and has a spice to it. Very strong.”
“That’s not weird at all,” I said.
“I find your ways strange sometimes too. But interesting.”
“This way,” Marko said, and led us on. “Let me show you the library and the entertainment room.”
We were midway through the tour when his comm buzzed. “Are you almost done? We’re already forty minutes behind schedule.” Chao-Xing. The tone was just short of rude.
He sighed. “Give me five minutes. I’ll be there soon.” Turning to us, he added, “That’s just her nature. Okay, we’d better wrap this up. Remember: relax today. Tomorrow, start focusing on your goals.”
That wasn’t nearly enough information. “But why do we have to—”
“Understand this, Zara. I can’t address your curiosity right now. One day, you’ll see. But please accept for now that there are reasons for everything we do in the program.”
“There’s usually a shitty reason for secrecy,” I said, and was a little surprised when Beatriz nodded. “It just seems strange that we’re being dumped so fast, okay? I haven’t forgotten what that dude said at the hotel. Or how you brushed it off.”
Marko hesitated as his H2 flashed. “I told you, he had problems. They should have been caught earlier, but that’s why you’re going through this shakedown period,” he said. “Candidates need to be quick to learn, quick to adapt, from the jump. There won’t be anyone to hold your hand later, so if you can’t handle it, we need to know that fast, before we leave the Sol system. We’ll check on you at the end of the week.”
Damn. I was probably safe from Deluca, but all kinds of things could likely go wrong out here. Maybe this week was a kind of extreme personality test; they needed pioneer or hermit types, who wouldn’t crack halfway through the Tour.
Unlike Gregory Valenzuela. I instinctively liked Marko, but I wasn’t sure I could trust him; still, my options on Earth weren’t better. Assuming he was on the level, it wasn’t like I had a lot to give up. Now that Derry had sold me out, I only gave a damn about Mom and Kiz. They were fine on Mars—out of my old man’s reach—and Derry had gotten the last favor he could expect from me. I was less sure of what Deluca could do to my mom and sister, but they would be semi-celebrities for a while. That would help protect them.
Besides, I liked a challenge.
“All right, we got the gist,” I muttered. “Take off, then.”
“You’ll do fine,” Marko said. “Nadim can answer any other questions you have. Good luck, you two.”
Beatriz tightened her grip on my arm as Marko strode away and vanished down the corridor. I didn’t move for a while, not sure what to do.
“Did they leave?” Beatriz asked.
“Not yet.” There was a pause of about a minute . . . and then a little shiver in the thick, strange gravity that I felt through the soles of my boots. Beatriz squeaked, closed her eyes, and clung tighter. “Now they have gone. Do you want to see their departure?”
“Sure,” I said, before Beatriz could say she didn’t, and a broad patch of skin in Nadim’s wall just . . . disappeared. “Holy shit!” I couldn’t hold that back, and I felt a rush of two things at once: disorientation and exhilaration. Like falling toward infinity. It was so beautiful. Velvet black, shot with colors that I’d never imagined, and below, the bright spinning ball of home. The silvery flash of Leviathan.
And the tiny, insignificant shape of the shuttle moving from Nadim off into the distance, heading for another ship farther out.
I stepped forward to rest my hands against the transparent skin, staring. Nadim still felt warm and silky, but I was looking out at the cold vastness of the universe. It almost felt like I was moving outside, drifting into the beauty. It was wrong to feel both small and home at the same time, but it felt like I was meant to be here. I’d never felt that way before. I’d always been restless, looking for something I couldn’t find.
Here it was. A strange kind of home.
“I think Beatriz needs you,” Nadim said apologetically, and I jolted back into my body, stepped away, and the window disappeared. He was right. Beatriz had collapsed into a chair with her hands covering her face, not quite crying, but close.
I claimed the chair beside her and touched her shoulder. She flinched. “Hey,” I said. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, very faintly. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“Strange? Check to that. They dragged me out of rehab for this.” I leaned forward. “Tell me what you need right now.”
She gave a hitching little laugh and dropped her hands to her lap. “Home?”
I didn’t know what home meant to her. A place? People? A view? I couldn’t help with any of that. Maybe a distraction would work. “So you’re giving up. That fast.”
She looked up at me—confused for a second, and then heat building behind those eyes. “No.”
“Then quit hiding in a corner. We’re in space. You knew this was coming.”
“Knowing something isn’t the same as experiencing it!”
“Serious question,” I said. “Because if we’re going to be depending on each other, I need to know: you going to freak out on me when I need you?”
Her lips parted. She formed an answer, then swallowed it. Then stood up. A little wobbly, but she steadied it. “It was just a surprise,” she said. “I’m fine. Nadim? I’m fine. You can—open the window.”
He did. I loved the view. I knew Beatriz still hated it, but she stared out like she was facing down a wild animal. Back straight. Okay, then.
“Why do you think the Leviathan saved those astronauts back in the day?” I asked.
She lifted a startled gaze to mine. “You mean, the ones aboard the ISS?”
“Yeah. Seems weird, that timing. Humanity was about to destroy itself, right? And then there’s this space disaster tailor-made for miraculous intervention, and heroes right there, ready to zoom in and save everybody.”
Beatriz stared at me with a focus she hadn’t had before. And a little indignant lift to her chin. “Are you implying there was some kind of conspiracy? That the Leviathan had something to do with the ISS accident?”
I shrugged. “It’s a well-oiled con back where I’m from. Make somebody sick, then sell them the medicine they need to get well.”
“You’re not a Space Truther, are you?”
�
�Well, some of them have good points.” I was playing. I didn’t believe any of what Space Truthers spewed, but this was doing good things for her mood. Distractions worked.
“The Leviathan had nothing to do with the mess we made of Earth!” Beatriz sounded completely sure about it. “We got ourselves into it, haven’t you read the histories? How we just ignored all our problems until they were too big to be fixed?”
I did remember. How fools in power argued against scientific fact and brought in phony experts to keep doing nothing. I blamed them for it too. But I needed to keep her stirred up, more anger, less fear. It was a kind of emotional-energy exchange.
“Maybe. But sure seems like they caught us right when we couldn’t afford to ask any hard questions, you know?” I grinned at her. “Anyway, I’m Zara, straight out of the Lower Eight in New Detroit. We saw each other at orientation, but I figured I’d make it official.”
She seemed torn between continuing the argument and being polite. Civility won. “Beatriz Teixeira,” she said. “Rio. Although I also lived in São Paulo for a while.”
“At least you’re not looking like you might pass out anymore, either. See? Arguing is good for you. Let me make some coffee.”
She gave me a reluctant smile. “I’ll do it. I have a recipe.”
Beatriz had a flair for mixing it with steamed milk and cinnamon, and that was heavenly. We sat at the round white table and drank, and she looked like a different girl. Relaxed, she had an open sweetness about her. We talked about Rio, a place that existed only in stories for me, but was real enough to her, with all its shops and busy streets and white sandy beaches.
When we finished our drinks, and she seemed okay, I said, “So, we’re going to take a short cruise in the shallow end, right?”
I don’t know how he knew I was talking to him, but Nadim answered. “Within this system. Where would you like to go?”
Beatriz appeared to be at a loss; that left it to me to decide. Nobody had ever asked me to pick a destination before, let alone on this scale. It felt like he’d just offered me the Sol system on a silver platter. I gave the first answer that popped into my head.
“Mars. I’d like to see Mars.”
I’d never walked in the domed city where my mother and sister lived, but I’d studied up on it. Now I could admire the view from orbit, where everything was red magic, mountains and valleys blurred into shadows and squiggles. It would be good to see it and imagine my mom and Kiz, going about their lives there. Some of the old pain had softened into a bittersweet sting. Mostly, I was glad I’d managed to leave them smiling this time.
Everything shifted as energy rippled through us, and Beatriz let out a surprised cry and grabbed at the table edge. I pictured a dolphin leaping in the sea, a kind of joyful burst of unleashed motion. I’d expected there would be more ceremony, like I’d have to be at the helm or input coordinates, but for a Leviathan, this jaunt was probably like a trip down the block to buy steamed pork buns.
Beatriz nearly fell over as the forward motion increased, so maybe we should’ve been strapped in. His exuberance clearly scared her.
I went back to Nadim’s skin and reached out. He must have known exactly what I wanted, because this time, he didn’t just open a window, he gave me a huge expanse of transparency. The first glimpse stole my breath. Earth retreated beneath us, along with the last sliver of blue sky. The darkness bloomed with stars. We sling-shotted around the moon, enormous on our left as it whirled past. Then he dove deeper, so that the patch of galaxy in the distance swirled in smoky, sparking colors.
“Can—can you slow down, please?” Beatriz asked. She sounded shaken. I turned away, and the transparency closed. She’d gotten up from the table, but she looked sick again. “I’m sorry. I’m trying.”
She was. I couldn’t bust her for having vertigo problems. Hopefully, she’d learn to kick them. “Maybe you should lie down awhile?”
Nadim didn’t speak to us, but glowing pulses shot across one wall, and following the lights led us back to our quarters. We had separate rooms, though they were next door to each other. The furniture had been built into the walls, probably to keep things from shifting during transit. Beatriz fell onto her bunk and closed her eyes with a soft whimper. “I’ll be all right,” she said. “I trained for this, I swear I did. I just need . . . I need rest.”
I left her and went back to watch our progress. I was still fascinated with the view. It didn’t seem possible that he could travel so fast, but in the time it had taken me to get her settled, I could already see Mars as a small orange orb, growing as we raced closer. He slowed as the red planet deepened before us, and without meaning to, I pressed my palms to the port-skin.
Mom and Kiz are probably there by now. Maybe just getting off their own shuttle. Thinking about me. Sometimes I’d wondered how it must feel, just seeing a milky dome above them when they looked up, no stars or sky. The whole universe lay before me, and part of me wished I could share this breathtaking vision with them.
It occurred to me that I missed them. Really missed them. I’d been holding that back a long time, pretending that I didn’t need them, didn’t need anybody. But up here, it was safe to admit I still loved them.
“This made you sad,” Nadim said. “I didn’t expect that. I’m sorry. Why do you feel that way?”
My head jerked up. Right, I’m not alone here. But . . . “How do you know?”
“I can . . . see is not the right word. Neither is feel. It’s somewhere in between?”
I tried to imagine what the bacteria in my system might be feeling and failed utterly. In orientation, they’d warned us off of feeling his emotions; I wasn’t sure they’d ever even mentioned him picking up on ours. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this development. Cautiously I ran my hand down the wall, and a jolt of . . . something tingled through my fingers. I quickly pulled back. “What was that?”
After a pause, Nadim said, “I’m not sure,” and he sounded surprised too.
I tried it again. Same tingle. It wasn’t like I’d got an electric shock; rather, it felt sort of good, like positive feedback. It faded. When I tried again, nothing.
“Do you want to stay here awhile?” he asked me. “It is a lovely planet. I can remain in orbit if you wish.”
“I guess,” I said. “What’s all this like for you? Is it strange, having us with you?”
A pause. “Nobody’s asked that before,” he said.
“Really? Out of how many . . . uh, Honors?”
“I’ve partnered with twenty different sets,” he said.
“So forty people, and nobody’s ever asked how you feel about it until now?”
“No.”
That struck me as weirdly human-centric. Hadn’t they thought of him as . . . real? Having his own feelings and life? Not even Marko? Way to be ambassadors, people.
“You shouldn’t feel sorry for me,” Nadim said. “I’m very used to human behavior.”
He’d read me, again. Effortlessly. I was used to being a closed book, and now I felt . . . open. That worried me and brought up the old fears. I didn’t like being vulnerable. “Okay, now, hang on,” I said. “How are you reading my mind?”
“I’m not,” he said, and sounded startled about it. “I wouldn’t. But you . . . you feel like colors, and the colors are made of emotions. You were purple, but you’re brightening to red now. And that feels . . . warm. Like the taste of a star.”
“I . . . what?” My stomach lurched in the most unexpected way, not seasick, but that pleasurable shiver rolled over me in waves again. People didn’t just say things like that, certainly not about me. “Okay. Sure.”
“Did I explain it badly?” He seemed concerned.
“No, it’s fine. Just—it’s pretty personal. They told us back on Earth we might feel stuff on board, but—”
“You already do, don’t you? Don’t I have texture?”
Belatedly I realized I was still resting my hand against the wall. I wondered if all new Honors fel
t this strange when they first came aboard. I wondered if that was what had so badly damaged Valenzuela, not slamming this door and locking it up. I stepped back and fixed my eyes on Mars again. “That’s not what I’m talking about. There’s feeling with my fingertips and . . . feeling with feelings.” That sounded complicated, but I couldn’t phrase it better. “Look, are you sure you can’t read my mind?”
“Not read it, no. I’ve never had that deep a relationship with any of my Honors. I can see moods, but it’s rare that I connect any more deeply. Of course, I’m still learning.”
“You’re in training too?”
“Yes. But I’m near the end. Soon, I’ll be ready for the Journey.”
“Yeah, I got some questions about that—”
“Perhaps later. Beatriz isn’t feeling well. You should probably check on her. It might help if she had something to eat.” I had the unmistakable sense he was trying to ditch my question. Nice try, but I didn’t get distracted that easy.
“Yeah, well, I’m not the chef on this cruise. She’ll have to get it herself.” I meant it, but then I reconsidered enough to ask, “Is she sick? For real?”
His lovely voice radiated regret. “Just disoriented. This happens sometimes. I hope she can adjust to me. Not everyone can.” He sounded . . . a little wounded.
Until this moment it never occurred to me that we could hurt the feelings of a ship, even if it was intelligent. This was all so new. So odd. And once again, I remembered Valenzuela. Maybe he couldn’t deal with all this . . . sharing. Felt weird to me too.
I didn’t want to admit it also felt . . . good.
“Did Marko and Chao-Xing have trouble adapting?” I asked, and headed for the kitchen. He was right. Food probably was an ace idea.
He didn’t answer the question, and I decided not to try it again. Could he get mad? I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out, not this fast. I pulled out drawers and examined the neatly ranked packages. Apparently, they were specially branded to us—I spotted some things in the drawers marked with my name that made my stomach growl. I chose a meat-pie pack and read the instructions on the back. It only took a half a minute to warm it in the reheater.
