Legacy Code

by Autumn Kalquist

  One of the workers, a half who looked fresh out of caretaker sector, pulled away from the guards. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean what I said.” His high-pitched voice rang out, and everyone craned their necks in his direction.

  The guard closest to the boy reached for him, but the boy lurched away, running for the doors. Another guard darted after him and slammed a fist into the back of his head.

  The boy went down, and Era sucked in a breath. Why would the president bother arresting a brand new half? What could he possibly have said or done to be a threat?

  Two of the guards dragged the limp boy out of the galley with the rest of the prisoners. Several moments passed, and the chatter picked up again, more subdued than it had been.

  Era stared into her gruel, her appetite gone. This ship was supposed to be safer. The guards were supposed to be here to protect the colonists. Weren’t they?

  Zephyr slammed her spoon into her bowl. “So our president’s arresting halfs now. She gonna send guards to caretaker sector next?”

  Era took a drink of water to get rid of the sour taste in her mouth. She cupped her palms over her belly, too sick to eat, and waited for Zephyr to be done.

  This will be gone after tomorrow. My baby will be gone.

  She blinked to banish the tears springing up in her eyes. How would she get through this without Dritan? Zephyr didn’t get it. She couldn’t understand what this was like—not yet.

  Era had thrown the grimp Medic Faust gave her on the shelf next to her bunk and hadn’t given it a second thought. But right now, the promise of feeling nothing tempted her. Anything to get rid of this pain.

  “The president will what? Save us all? The president does what’s good for the president.” That’s what Zephyr had said. But Era hadn’t believed it. Now she didn’t know what to believe.

  Had she been naive to think the president had the fleet’s best interests at heart? Had she been stupid to think this ship could be a chance at a better life in the fleet?

  A movement pressed against her from within her womb. The tears filling her eyes poured over, and she wiped them away. Not gonna cry. Not here.

  Era felt a light hand on her shoulder, and she looked up. Zephyr had finished and was standing next to her. “Dritan will come back,” she said. “You’ll try again.”

  I don’t want to try again. I want this baby.

  Era stood up and grabbed her bowl to take it back to the line. She dropped it into the bin and followed Zephyr out of the galley.

  When they stepped into the corridor, Zephyr crossed her arms. “Tadeo wanted to meet up during midbreak, but we can—”

  “No. You should be with him.”

  “But…I finished my song yesterday. We could go up to Observation…”

  “I didn’t sleep that great. I think I’m just going to go back to my cubic ‘til my shift.”

  The buzzer went off, and a quiet group of techs exited the galley, followed by a crew of sublevel workers.

  Zephyr gave Era a hug. The warm touch made Era’s eyes fill again.

  “You know Mali just wanted to get rid of me,” she said. “I’m gonna find a way to get back on the same shift as you.”

  “Go, before you’re late,” Era said.

  All she wanted to do was crawl back into her bunk, hug Dritan’s pillow to her and inhale the quickly fading scent of him.

  “See you at last mess?”

  “Yeah. For sure,” Era said.

  Zephyr gave her a little wave and turned to go. She walked to the main stairwell, her chin held high, her long impractical red-blond hair swinging behind her. Defiant in a place steeped in too much fear.

  I’ve never been defiant about anything.

  Era pressed a fist against the swell of her stomach and headed the opposite way, for the stairwell that would drop her off closest to her cubic.

  The Defect is a Lie.

  Medic Faust had never answered her—had never said it wasn’t.

  Something broke free inside Era, and the tightness in her chest released.

  I won’t go through with the abortion.

  She couldn’t do it. Not without seeing the truth for herself, with her own eyes.

  And she knew how she could access CD-1dy34b.

  Era had never been very good at deception. By the time she reached the repository for her shift, her suit stuck to her in all the wrong places, and every beat of her heart felt like a dying helio banging against her ribcage.

  Mali would see her and know what Era was planning. How could she not?

  A large crowd had gathered in the waiting area, and Era realized, with a start, that comms were going out today.

  Mali stood at the comm station, helping an older worker, a man whose name Era didn’t know. Mali handed holo gear to a waiting colonist and smiled when she saw Era walking through the doors.

  “Do we have an order today?” Era tried to say it like she didn’t care, but failed.

  “No, not yet.”

  Era’s muscles relaxed. Her plan hinged on being here when the cube order came in. But could she really do it? Could she really betray Mali?

  Mali’s eyes drifted to Era’s stomach, then she met Era’s gaze.

  You didn’t pry into the status of someone else’s pregnancy. Mali wouldn’t ask her about it, and Era didn’t trust herself to talk about it without blurting out her plan. “Where do you want me today?”

  “Transport’s going out. I’m about to help witness.” Mali tilted her head toward the table where Paige and Helice sat, two comm cases in front of them. “They’re handling incoming and outgoing, but we’re short on handhelds.”

  Era repressed a sigh. She’d have to record a message for Dritan. What would she say? How could she say it?

  “I’ll fix handhelds.” Era swiped her card across the scanner.

  Mali logged an eyepiece in and handed it to her. “I’ll be witnessing if you need me.”

  Era nodded and walked to storage. As she retrieved the bin of holos, her eyes drifted to the empty archive cube cases, and her heart sped up.

  If the chief brought an order today, she’d add the Legacy Code cube to it. But there were too many things she had to do to ensure she didn’t get caught. So many places where things could go wrong.

  She didn’t carry the bin to a cubic. Instead, she chose a table near the archivist station. She had to be close by if an order came. There’d only be one chance.

  Era worked on the handhelds, glancing up every so often toward the doors. She’d finished her fifth handheld when Chief Petroff walked in.

  She clutched the next handheld in one sticky palm and gestured to make it seem like she was working.

  “Excuse me,” the chief said.

  Era deactivated her eyepiece and looked up. The chief stood next to her table, an archive case in his hand.

  “I have an order for Mali.” He lowered his brow.

  Era’s stomach dropped, and she licked her lips. “She’s witnessing messages.”

  “Can you get her?” He said it slowly, dragging each word out like he thought she was some worthless half.

  Mali would reprimand Era for this, but what was this against the treason she was about to commit? She wiped her palms down her suit.

  “I’m busy right now,” she said.

  The chief’s face reddened, and Era reactivated her eyepiece. He grunted and walked off.

  Era waited a moment, her mouth drier than quin flatbread, then stood and walked over to the archivist station. She tried to act natural, but every movement felt stiff.

  The chief was talking to Paige now. Paige glanced her way and pointed to one of the recording cubics.

  Hurry. Sweat sprung up on Era’s forehead as she gestured to activate her eyepiece and connect it with the stationary’s display module. She pulled the diagnostic out and hooked it to the stationary.

  It took her less than a minute to locate the line of code she’d fixed a week earlier, the one that had caused the interface to go blank on Mal
i. She rewrote it, changing it back to the infinite loop glitch.

  Mali had exited the recording cubic and was speaking with Chief Petroff.

  Era’s stomach turned as she made a fist to close out the code and gestured to deactivate her eyepiece. She shoved the diagnostic under the station and stepped back just as Mali and the chief started walking toward her.

  Era put her hands behind her and took several deep breaths. Had Mali seen her? What’s my excuse for why I’m standing here and not fixing handhelds? What would Zephyr say?

  Mali drew closer and narrowed her eyes. “Era, please come get me next time.”

  “I…I will. I’m sorry.” Era focused on her scuffed boots.

  Why am I here, why am I here, why am I here?

  “I just wanted to find out how many working handhelds you need.” Lame.

  Mali’s brow wrinkled. “I need as many as you can fix.”

  Chief Petroff gave Mali his shift card and the archive case. Mali swiped his card and handed it back.

  “When do you need this by?” Mali asked.

  “I’ll be back at the end of shift.”

  “We’ll have it for you.”

  Chief Petroff’s steely gaze landed on Era again, and he headed for the door. She turned back to the table and clasped her hands over her stomach in a failed effort to stop it from churning.

  Mali swore under her breath. “Era. There’s that glitch again. How long will it take you to fix it? I hope I don’t need to go chase Chief Petroff down for his card.”

  “Depends on what kind of glitch it is.” She barely heard the sound of her own voice over the rush of her pulse.

  Mali sighed. “Try to get it working. I’ll go return these.”

  Mali walked toward the archives, and Era’s shoulders caved, all the tension in her giving way to fear and guilt. Maybe she was better at this deception thing than she thought.

  She attached her eyepiece to the system and fixed the glitch.

  When she finished, she took a quick look around. Still alone. No one paying attention to her.

  She accessed the cube order. Two files appeared. The order and a request for personnel files. She set her jaw and tapped the cube order.

  “New entry,” she whispered.

  A blinking dot appeared at the bottom of the list.

  “CD-1dy34b.”

  She released a slow breath when the code appeared in the slot. The subject material probably didn’t match whatever else executive had ordered, so she dragged it higher on the list. With luck, Mali wouldn’t notice the anomaly.

  Era closed the file out, then accessed the memory core to delete her eyepiece signature and the fact that she’d added an entry to the cube.

  She’d try to get back in here and delete the addition later, but she couldn’t worry about that now. Its presence on the list would be a mystery. An accidental add-on. She doubted they would even notice this extra cube.

  “Is it done?” Mali said.

  Era gripped the station, and her hands slipped down the edge, damp with sweat. Mali stood next to her, had appeared without Era hearing her approach.

  “It’s fixed.” Era disconnected her eyepiece and the diagnostic from the display module, and Mali checked her work.

  “Looks like a simple cube pull and data search,” Mali said. “I can handle this. I really need those handhelds.”

  “I’ll get back to it.” Era hurried away without waiting for a response.

  She watched furtively as Mali fetched the case from storage and brought it into the archives.

  Would Mali notice the cube she’d added, suspect something wasn’t right? Breathe. She tried to focus on the handheld she was attempting to fix, but her brain wouldn’t cooperate.

  Mali finally exited the archives with the case and took it straight to storage. Era felt the flush in her cheeks, the sweat dripping down her back.

  This thrill was new. It had an edge, yet filled her with a kind of wild, terrifying relief. She’d broken the rules, and no one had noticed.

  Once she fixed the other handhelds, she’d take the bin back to storage.

  And then she’d learn the truth.

  ∞

  Era pushed a working handheld to the side of the table and picked up the next one. Some glitch in the system kept the interface from loading. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and connected the diagnostic. The only way to fix this was to start over, delete everything. She reset the system to its original settings and loaded a fresh copy of the main program.

  The interface reappeared, and Era tested it. Everything worked.

  Sometimes the tech just needed a new copy of the program—a new chance to function smoothly.

  The time on her eyepiece told her she only had two hours left until the end of shift.

  I can’t do it.

  Why had she done something so stupid? If they found out now, would they call it treason? They might take away her clearance, switch her job, but she hadn’t accessed the cube yet. It wasn’t too late to back out, to forget she ever did any of this and hope no one up in executive noticed the extra cube in the case.

  “How many do we have?” Mali said from beside her.

  Era dropped the handheld.

  “You feeling alright?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Chief Petroff will be back soon for the pull and comms. I want you to help me witness.”

  Era picked up the handheld she’d just fixed and pointed to the pile off to the side of the table. “I got those working. I’ll take the rest back to storage.”

  Era dropped the working handheld into the bin and hefted it into her arms. She carried it back to storage, bile inching further up her throat with each step. She swiped her card, and the door slid open. The lume bar illuminated the compartment, and Era stepped inside.

  The door slid closed behind her, and she pushed the bin onto the shelf. Only then did she allow herself to look at the archive cases on the shelf below. The case on top would contain the cube she’d added.

  I can’t do it. I won’t. She stood taller and exhaled. It wasn’t too late to stop this. What would Dritan say if he knew what she’d already done?

  She walked back to the door and leaned against the panel beside it, pressing her forehead to the cool metal. But I’ll be aborting our baby without ever knowing the truth. And the truth’s here. How long before I get another chance to see it?

  She groaned and focused on the panel in front of her. She popped it off and scrutinized the underlying circuitry.

  There it was. The wire that always gave Dritan and her so much trouble in their cubic. She never thought she’d be locking herself in on purpose.

  She disconnected the wire and hit the button next to the door to be sure her sabotage had worked. The door didn’t open.

  Every muscle in her body screamed at her to get out of the cubic, give this up, but she licked her lips and walked to the shelf. She plunged her hand into the bin and retrieved the handheld she’d fixed.

  She placed it on the floor and pulled the archive case from the shelf.

  Once I do this, there’s no going back.

  Era took a deep breath and opened the case.

  The line of silver cubes looked exactly like any other collection of cubes, except for the tiny numbers engraved into the sides of each of them. Era leaned in, squinting, and searched for the right cube.

  It should be somewhere in the middle of the group, if Mali had stored them in order.

  CD-1dy34b.

  She picked it up and pushed it into the handheld before she could change her mind. Once she activated her eyepiece, the cube would store her shift card information in its memory core. But she should be able to delete it, even if the memory core had security measures in place.

  The Defect is a lie.

  Let’s see if it is. She turned the handheld on and twisted her wrist.

  Rows of files appeared on the cube—too many for Era to search through. Her hand trembled as she tapped the first one and s
played her fingers wide to bring it up.

  A holovid shimmered into existence, and Era recoiled.

  The woman before her was ancient, older than anyone she’d ever seen. Watery brown eyes peered out from wrinkled, sagging skin. Was this a woman from Earth? People used to live longer, before life on the fleet put an end to that.

  The woman cleared her throat.

  “Name: Avia Sherman, Infinitek Lead Scientist, Genetic Research.

  This is the official reference file for genetic modification 2672 at allele rs120893068. The modification is heritable, appearing in half of all fetuses. It results…”

  Avia’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat.

  “It results in serious heart and lung defects. Early attempts to repair the defective gene have met with little to no success. The only way to increase the lifespan of affected newborns is through heart and lung surgery. Three in five newborns survive the surgeries. Long-term prognosis unknown. Chances of survival are greater with proper care and resources. If facilities or resources not available…”

  Avia closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she raised a hand. “Abortion recommended.” She made a fist, and the holo went blank.

  Era rocked back on her heels and sank against the metal shelf, unable to keep her balance. She wrapped both hands around the swell of her belly.

  Not hopeless, like they’d said.

  The Defect wasn’t a lie. But they’d all been lied to. Her baby had a chance, could live. How many women had aborted children who could’ve survived if only they’d been given the chance?

  Heat rose in Era’s cheeks, and she clenched her hands into fists. The fluttering in her belly happened more frequently now. She hadn’t imagined the movements and couldn’t deny their existence any longer. Her baby was not just a collection of cells. How could she abort, now that she knew her baby had a chance?

  What operations needed to be done? Could the medics here on the Paragon do them? They had the space, the medics, the drugs they made on zero deck…

  Era gestured, intent on opening the next file. A beep went off outside the door and she froze. Mali was trying to access the storage cubic.