Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  Ghost harrumphed. “Your brother is a lunatic.”

  James glared at him. Lip trembling, Ghost turned away. James looked back to Noa. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  12

  Noa walked along the promenade of Time Gate 1, hovering in Earth’s orbit. The promenade went the circumference of the gate, and was as wide as an eight-hover roadway. A skylight over her head let her see the entirety of the gate. Time Gate 1 was shaped like a ring; her feet were in the direction of its outer rim, her head its inner. The outer rim had twelve “jewels” set into it. From where she stood they looked tiny, but each was as large as a mid-rise building. Each had engines and defensive arrays—although the defensive arrays had never been used in Sol System’s gate. These “jewels” were studded with docked ships. She heard a hum and instinctively looked up. The skylights in the inner rim were bisected by giant timefield bands. The bands were glowing now. They looked like liquid lightning, and then the lightning turned to rainbow colors and spread out in an enormous sphere within Time Gate 1’s center. It was a breathtaking sight, one that Noa hardly believed could be created by humans. The rainbow sphere disintegrated and the hum died. Where a moment before she had seen the opposite side of the time gate, now there were two large freighters and a number of smaller passenger vehicles. The memory of the bubble bursting stayed etched in her mind. She sent it to Timothy without even blinking her eyes. “Always beautiful,” Tim replied from where he was stationed aboard the Sun-Sin, the fighter-carrier that was their home, currently docked for maintenance at moon base.

  “I forgot what gate Kenji’s at,” Noa said over the ether, dropping her gaze and searching the ethernet for departure information. “How did I not put that in my memo-app?”

  “A-03,” Tim reminded her over the frequency. And then his thoughts gently nudged her. “Shouldn’t the Senior Lieutenant of a fighter squadron remember the destination of her mission without having to rely on a memo app?” Noa rolled her eyes and let him feel it. She’d just been promoted to the leader of her squadron aboard the fighter carrier Sun-Sin. Tim was an engineer for the enormous carrier, a position out of her line of command, allowing their relationship to be completely above board. Although she had aspirations for a Captaincy; that rank would complicate things, and for now their situation was perfect. “Don’t you have a toilet line leaking near the engine to repair, Lieutenant?” she teased right back.

  “Ha, ha … but yes, I have to report to duty in three minutes and fifty-six seconds. I better sign-off. Enjoy your leave with your brother, and don’t get into any trouble—I know that’s hard for you.”

  “You stay out of trouble,” Noa responded, mostly to keep him on the line.

  “Yeah, I’ll be sure to put up the out-of-order signs.” Because she knew Tim, she could “hear” the dry humor in his “voice” and feel his annoyance with the task in her bones. “Love you,” he said, and then their connection shut down. Noa stopped on the promenade. For the first time, she saw the crowds swirling around her … and for the first time, she felt alone even though she could see Kenji now, sitting at his gate, eyes glued to an e-reader. He wore funny little old-fashioned glasses. Lately, he didn’t want anyone “messing with his eyes.” In her mind she felt the tickle of messages piling up, and a restaurant she passed on the concourse sent a little ping to her personal line, trying to get her attention and remind her that they had the best won-ton mein off-planet. Ignoring all of it, she strode over to Kenji. Although she made no effort to hide her approach, he didn’t look up until she leaned over and said, “Hey, Little Brother!” He visibly jumped in his seat.

  Grinning, Noa teased him. “If you were connected to the ethernet, you could have set your app to let you know when I approached.”

  Dropping his gaze back to his e-reader, Kenji said, “Or you could have just said hello before you were standing right over me.” Adjusting the fragile-looking lenses in front of his eyes, he muttered, “Technology kills human decency.”

  Noa sat down beside him. “Giving you warning wouldn’t be any fun.”

  To her relief, instead of becoming defensive, Kenji gave a sort of clumsy half-smile. “Sisters.”

  Smiling at him, Noa said, “Brothers.”

  Kenji’s long fingers drifted down the side of his e-reader. “Go on,” Kenji said. “Tell me what an idiot I’m being, leaving the firm and going back to Luddeccea.”

  Noa bit the inside of her lip. “Sounds like everyone else already has.” And she agreed with them. He’d wound up disappointed with his job at the university. Politics at the academic level were the most bitter because the stakes were so low, her father always said. But then Kenji’s love of numbers and abstract mathematical theorems had gotten him a position in a prestigious firm that specialized in extraterrestrial arbitrage. He could have advanced as high as he wanted if he just worked for it. On Luddeccea, as a member of the Fourth Family settler class, he’d hit a glass ceiling.

  Apparently mistaking her answer for approval, Kenji glanced over at her. “I’m glad someone understands.”

  Noa felt her gut constrict. She was naturally honest, but she also loved her brother. She didn’t want their last meeting before he headed home to end in a fight.

  Looking away, he shook his head. “I’ve just had enough of this place.” A cleaning ‘bot whirred by, and he drew back as though from a bad smell. “I thought technology would make us better, but it just takes away our dignity.”

  Noa couldn’t restrain herself. “You’d rather be cleaning floors than playing with mathematical theorems?”

  Kenji pushed the delicate lenses up his nose. “Maybe the person who was good at floor cleaning would rather be doing it.”

  “Or maybe they’d rather just enjoy their dole,” said Noa, “and writing bad poetry, or whatever they do for self-fulfillment.”

  Kenji frowned. “We clutter our minds with so much data, we’ve lost the ability to think critically about what we actually know; and we’ve lost a connection with our spiritual selves in an avalanche of electronic stimuli … the dole isn’t worth that.”

  Noa groaned. That was language straight from Luddeccean philosophy.

  Kenji’s shoulders sank. He looked away. “Noa … I know you don’t believe in things like that but … being here, being constantly inundated with everything … it makes me feel lonely.” His shoulders rose and fell. “I know it’s supposed to make us feel connected, but it doesn’t make me feel that way; it just makes me feel like another cog.”

  Pushing up his glasses again, he said, “Working on Luddeccea, I’ll be doing meaningful work on our time gate, improving its systems. It’s so old … ”

  Noa tilted her head. All the time gates were old and needed repairs directed by a human mind. The gates were programmed to repair themselves, but over the years some of the repairs no longer made sense. She looked around. The commercial sections of the time gates were always kept sleek and clean; but station staff complained that the living quarters sections had “roads to nowhere,” hallways built for ‘bot access that were no longer used, and huge rooms of computer servers that hummed with power—but whose exact functions were no longer known. She couldn’t deny that it was work that needed to be done. And unlike extraterrestrial arbitrage, people would actually see the benefit of it. Nebulas, if Luddeccea’s gate broke down and there was a famine …

  She put her hand on Kenji’s. “You’re right, it is important work. And I’m proud of you for following your heart.”

  Kenji lifted his chin.

  “And you have experience with the local culture, unlike most programmers who won’t get on too well with the Luddeccean First Families,” Noa added, her lip curling a little in disgust.

  For a moment Kenji’s smile faded.

  Squeezing his hand, Noa said, “I’m proud of you, Little Brother.” He smiled back. Swooping in for a hug, Noa said, “And I love you.”

  Over a loudspeaker, an announcer called boarding for his flight.

  “That’s
me,” Kenji said, pulling away from her embrace.

  Noa blinked. He had tears in his eyes. He stood up hurriedly, and Noa stood with him. Grabbing her hand, Kenji said, “I think you’re the only person who understands me.” Looking down at her hand, he said, “I love you too, Noa.”

  And then before she could reply, he pulled his hand away, and she was staring at the back of his head as he headed for the boarding tunnel.

  Noa crossed her arms and bowed her head in Ghost’s dreary basement. Kenji loved her—he would never hurt her—and as much as he respected some aspects of Luddeccean philosophy, he had to know it was out of control. Somehow they’d tricked him into serving them, and as for her being missing … well, maybe they’d made up a horrible story about her dying, or told him that the vid message she’d sent from the ancient Luddeccean vid booth was from off-system, or a computer simulation … or … there were hundreds of things they could have told him. And maybe he went along with it because he believed them, or because he was afraid.

  “Noa?” said James.

  Noa jumped at his voice—she smiled wanly in his direction without really seeing him. Her mind was focused on the memory of Kenji at Time Gate 1, hazy with the distortion of time, saying he loved her.

  Her memory might be dim, but one thing was crystal clear. She still had to save her brother.

  James’s laptop was balanced on his knees. The hard line connected between his port and the machine kept getting in the way of his fingers, making his skin buzz with irritation.

  “This screen is too small,” Noa complained, sitting beside James on Eliza’s living room couch. They were in the safe room. 6T9 was seated nearby, in the process of rebooting. The hologlobe showed that Luddeccean guardsmen were still upstairs in Eliza’s kitchen drinking milk and eating cookies.

  Noa had been quiet the whole trip back. Granted, when they’d crept out of the sewer near Eliza’s house and slipped into the boot of Eliza’s hover in broad daylight, silence had been a necessity. And then after Eliza nearly plowed said hover into the side of her home and a Luddeccean Guardsman had helped the old woman navigate into her rooftop garage, silence had been even more necessary. They’d just had enough time to exit the boot and run down to the safe room before the whole patrol had showed up at Eliza’s door, making sure she was okay. Of course Eliza had felt compelled to offer the Guard milk and cookies.

  “Can you enlarge this small section?” Noa said, pointing to a portion of the screen displaying the electrical network.

  They were reviewing the electrical lines and sewer system of the city. Noa wanted to plan a “distraction” to draw the patrols away while they stole the Ark. They could have done this on Ghost’s light screens, but Noa didn’t trust Ghost, and insisted they keep their plans secret from him until the last possible moment.

  Reaching forward, James got his hand caught in the cord, and the plug popped out of the socket. The screen went dark. He felt his neurons go black in frustration. James’s eyes slid down to the cord. “Noa,” he said, holding up the end of the wire. “There is a faster and easier way to do this.”

  Noa leaned back in her seat. She looked away.

  “I know you are still troubled about your brother. You don’t have to worry about hiding it,” James said. He’d had the odd errant thought about Noa—what if one slipped? He felt something within him alight with certainty. He could hide thoughts, couldn’t he? He was sure he could, but how did he know he could? His head ticked.

  “You’re right.” Beside him, Noa cast a furtive gaze in his direction. Rubbing her temples, she said, “It would be faster and I need it in my data banks as well.”

  For once James was glad his face showed little emotion. It occurred to him that he was curious about what errant thoughts Noa might have about him, and he was glad that curiosity couldn’t show in his expression.

  “Give it here,” Noa said.

  James handed her the cable. Looking at it, Noa sighed, and then plugged it into her port. Her dark eyes briefly met his. No words passed over the link, but an emotion coalesced in the depths of Noa’s limbic system, a surge of neural activity that James’s mind had no difficulty in interpreting. There was something about looking at him that repelled her.

  Noa hadn’t hard linked with anyone since Timothy and looking at his doppelgänger was strange, and disquieting, and she wanted to pull away. The feeling rose in her before all her apps were up, and it raced at the speed of electrons to James’s mind. She expected to feel something from him, shock at least—the emotion was not flattering, and sometimes she got the feeling James was at least superficially attracted to her. She was still too scrawny, but she was experienced enough to realize that for some people opportunity and proximity were three-quarters of attraction. They’d had a lot of proximity in the past few days, and he’d been more physically demonstrative than he needed to be. Before she could even say, “I’m sorry,” aloud or with her thoughts, he said in her mind, “Let’s review the plans, then.”

  Maybe he hadn’t felt it? Perhaps the shielding had been adequate after all? He turned his head so he was facing away and touched the air. The engineering plans seemingly flickered to life in front of their noses, but actually it was just an illusion transmitted directly to their visual cortexes. If 6T9 were to awaken, he wouldn’t see what they were pointing at.

  She had too much to do right now. Worrying over hurting James’s feelings was not what she needed. In Ghost’s basement she’d memorized all the Fleet personnel that were planet side. She wasn’t sure whom to approach first … if they believed in the “alien” invasion, if they believed she was a sympathizer, even a member of the Fleet might betray her. Hell, they’d be more likely to betray her. If they believed she was a danger to the planet, they’d turn her in, not for a reward, but out of duty. And then there was still the matter of how she would save Kenji.

  First things first. Her jaw hardened, and she set her memo-apps to work. She began saving the schematics for the sewer lines and electrical grid to her mind, as well as a recent map of the city. She’d just completed those tasks when 6T9, apparently done rebooting, piped up, “Oh, fun! Do you have a three-way link?”

  “We’re done,” said James, too quickly.

  He pulled the hard link from his own neural port without warning. Noa leaned back slightly. He had felt her repulsion, she knew it, that was why he was pulling out of the link so quickly. But she hadn’t felt his recognition of her emotion—or anything personal at all, which meant he had better shielding than her. Which was very strange. Fleet mental shielding was designed to resist torture. That he had something that might even be better …

  “Oh, how sad,” said 6T9. “Eliza would have found it so titillating.”

  “Yep, we’re done,” said Noa. She looked at the hologlobe. “And the Guards upstairs are done, too. Let’s go up.” The small safe room suddenly felt cramped.

  6T9 pulled down the ladder and they made their way into the kitchen. Eliza was there sipping a cup of tea, reading a strange grayish pamphlet thing that was nearly as wide as the table. The front had Noa’s picture on it and was captioned in big, black letters, “Alien sympathizer still at large.”

  Before Noa could ask any questions about their visit, James said, “Is that a newspaper?”

  Eliza blinked up at him. “Why yes, it is. It’s how they keep us in line.”

  6T9 went over to Eliza, but before he reached her, Eliza flipped the paper over so he couldn’t see Noa’s picture. Instead there was a picture of a happily-smiling family with black polybolts in their data ports and a headline that read, “Permanent Data Port Deactivation Gives Luddecceans Peace of Mind,” and beneath that in smaller letters, “Luddeccean Premier makes it free—council discussing making it mandatory.” Noa’s stomach did an uncomfortable flip-flop. She hadn’t seen any civilians with their ports jammed, but that day was coming.

  Paying no attention to the newspaper, 6T9 went directly to Eliza and looked into her eyes, as though trying to see ev
idence of a concussion. “Eliza, are you having a moment of confusion? The stated purpose of the Prime Tribune is to keep the populace informed.”

  “I remember that is what they say,” said Eliza. “Don’t worry.”

  “Oh,” said 6T9. He kissed her head and straightened with a smile. “I won’t worry, if you say so.” With that, he began clearing the plates away from the table. Eliza sighed.

  James went and read over her shoulder. “I extracted a newspaper from the 2000s from a garbage heap on Earth. Is this published daily?”

  “Yes,” said Eliza.

  “How interesting … they are reprising this technology,” James said, sounding not unlike the professor he claimed to be.

  Clenching her fists, Noa checked herself. Was. He was a professor. “So they’re taking us back to the 2000s level of technology,” Noa muttered, partly to stamp those suspicious thoughts out of her mind. “Great.”

  James looked up at her. “More like the 1950s level of technology.”

  Noa felt a cold coil of dread in her gut … not that an extra fifty years of backwardness should matter so much. Keeping her fear out of her voice, she quipped, “Even better. Anything in that paper that might be useful?”

  “They know you’re in the city,” said Eliza, eyes scanning the pages. “They’re imposing a curfew at sundown.”

  “Well, at least we know they know,” said Noa, walking over to the table. She said, “Anything else?”

  “The daughter of one of the first colonists just died,” said Eliza. “Do you remember her, Noa? She came to your elementary school and told you all what it was like to be a little girl at the time of the first colonization.”

  Noa looked over Eliza’s shoulder. In slightly smudged ink there was a picture of a woman who looked even more ancient than Eliza. “Up until a few years ago,” Eliza said, “Grace Lao took nano treatments like me. But lately she’s been returning to her Christian faith and the Luddeccean philosophy … she decided she didn’t believe in the treatments anymore, they were vanity and against the will of God. She died from a faulty heart valve … could have been replaced so easily, even at her age.” She snorted. “Even at my age.” Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “Not able to reproduce and no longer of any use.”