Ceres Rising (Cladespace Book 3)

by Corey Ostman

  “Couldn’t afford a new one,” Charlie said. “My family had to scrape up the funds just to get me this.”

  “You don’t want the infection to spread to your brain.”

  “I said I can’t—”

  “Kyran,” Grace said, tapping her ptenda.

  “What is it, Grace?” the doctor’s voice came in her dermal dot. Grace released the ptenda’s privacy setting so the others could hear him.

  “My friend Charlie’s grafty is bothering him,” she said. “Mhau said it might be a rejection. Can you help him out?”

  “Have him come by tomorrow and I’ll get him a new one.”

  “I don’t have the cred—” began Charlie.

  “He can pay me back later,” Kyran said.

  Charlie went silent for half a moment, then his eyes puckered as he smiled, leaning close to Grace’s ptenda. “Thanks, doc! I—I can’t believe it.”

  Grace smiled. Kyran. She didn’t know him well: he was much older than Raj, and he’d left cloister earlier than his brothers. He and Raj were different in many ways. Kyran didn’t have Raj’s childlike wonder. Or, if he did, he kept it hidden deep inside. She could always talk Raj into coming on an adventure, but wasn’t sure it would work with Kyran. But here was where they were kin: they were both generous, both willing to use their skills to help others. She liked that.

  “It’s no problem, Charlie,” Kyran said over the ptenda. “See you tomorrow.”

  Charlie grinned, finishing off his pucks.

  “Thanks, Kyran,” Grace said, closing the circuit.

  Plate burped and fisted his metarm chest. “Ah, that was good.” He stretched his arms. “Now I could use some sleep.”

  “Speaking of,” Mhau said, “have you three been fitted for your squeeze yet?”

  “We attached ours inbound. Most intense sleep of my life,” said Charlie.

  Grace felt a knot in her gut. She had not been fitted for a squeeze; she didn’t want one. She hated sleep squeezes, ever since cold sleep was forced on her en route to Mars.

  “Where’s yours, Grace?” Mhau asked.

  “I’ll be ok,” Grace countered. “I’ve been fine on the Waltz and I’ll do fine here.”

  “Cloister crazy,” pronounced Plate.

  “You must wear one at Bode-6,” said Mhau.

  Grace swallowed. “No.”

  Charlie put down his fork. “You lose muscle and bone mass, Grace.”

  “I’ll exercise. Kyran told me there was a centrifuge.”

  Mhau shook her head.

  “I haven’t had any issues,” Grace said.

  “You will.”

  Grace frowned. There was something deeply disturbing to her about her muscles working while she slept. She understood that she needed to exercise a great deal in a low gravity environment, but she wanted to control it herself, not have a machine do it for her.

  “It’s not happening,” she said.

  “Heh,” smirked Plate. “Wait ‘til the doc hears that.”

  Chapter 5

  “No, Kyran.” Grace was cross-legged with her arms straight down, holding herself up by her fingertips. Exercising. “You know I don’t want one.”

  Kyran sighed. They’d been having this conversation for the better part of a day. Or trying to. He’d mention it; she’d brush him off and go exercise again. He wasn’t going to let it pass anymore. After her sojourn on Mars and time on the Waltz, he knew her body was affected. How could he explain?

  “I know you don’t want one, yes.” He kicked out his legs and slid from his seat to the floor, landing in front of her. To his surprise, Tim made a gentle sweep with his thrusters and landed next to him. Silent support?

  Kyran turned back to Grace. “Look at me, Grace.” He shook off his jacket, a standard mimic fab that ended at the waist. “What don’t you see?”

  She stopped bouncing on her fingers and rolled into a seated position.

  “No upgrades,” she said. “You look like Raj would without the mechflesh.”

  Kyran nodded. “I have been out in the world. Out of Cheyenne and our family’s ties to cloister, for fifteen years. I am an alien among my own people, among cloisterfolk.”

  “And?”

  “And whether you like it or not, so are you.”

  Grace, close-lipped, gave a slight nod.

  “Cloister is a manifestation of the fears of the unknown and unfamiliar. It’s a cultural stopgap,” he said.

  “That’s pretty harsh, Ky.”

  Ky. He hadn’t heard his nickname in many years—not since he was last in cloister. It felt familiar and somehow comforting, but reminded him all the more of how much had changed. He continued.

  “Don’t misunderstand me. Cloister is good. I appreciate the lifestyle: the attention to simplicity, the closeness to the earth. I took it with me when I left,” he said. “But I left. We both left. For a reason. To explore, to experience. To grow. Right?”

  “I knew I had to leave,” Grace said quietly, looking at the floor. “To be what I wanted to be. A protector. But I thought—” She frowned. “Are you telling me it’s not physically possible to get along without a squeeze? It’s hard, but I figured it out, I’m—”

  “What’s the most important thing to a protector?”

  “Honor, duty—”

  “No, no. Practical things. What do you need to do your job?”

  “Quickness of mind, strength of body.”

  “Exactly.” Kyran tapped his ptenda. “Running around the solar system, a place we haven’t evolved for, will wear you down. Actually, it’ll kill you.” He swiped the screen and motioned for Grace to look at her ptenda.

  “What’s this?”

  “What everybody knows out here,” said Kyran. “There are some things that just aren’t good for you, Grace, and without some sort of countermeasure, you’re handing over years of your life to ignorance.”

  “Oh, the Vadislav Belt studies,” Tim Trouncer said. “I read those! I remember when—”

  “Shh!” Kyran scolded. Grace was reading. One minute passed, then another. His hope rose: she hadn’t turned off or turned away. The longer she read, the more he hoped she’d understand.

  After several minutes, she looked up.

  “Immune system, blood pressure, vision, balance…” Grace sighed. “I can’t counteract all the effects of low gravity with exercise.”

  Kyran nodded. “And even extended stays in the centrifuge aren’t enough.”

  “How can I explain?” Grace said. “I felt violated on Mars when they slapped on a squeeze without my permission.”

  “I understand,” Kyran said. And he did, too. He wouldn’t appreciate somebody attaching a medical device while he was asleep. “But this isn’t a violation. It is your choice, Grace.”

  He sat back as she wrestled with her thoughts. He’d said all he really could. As the doctor at Bode-6, he could order her to have the squeeze, but only after she’d experienced the onset of debilitating effects. He looked down at Tim. The PodPooch responded with a friendly wag.

  A movement of air caused him to look back up. Grace had bounced up, hooking a ceiling strap.

  “You want me in this chair?”

  “You want—?” I convinced her, he realized.

  “It’s not necessary, but, yeah it’d be easier.”

  Grace slid into the chair. As she did, the PodPooch kicked off the floor and hovered near her.

  “Comfortable?” Tim asked.

  The PodPooch was trying to help. Kyran shook his head and moved behind Grace. He wished he were comfortable with Tim Trouncer. But his memories kept going back to Eugene Bransen. Was there really something left of him inside that chassis? Tim’s personality was similar, but he’d met many people with similar personalities—it didn’t make them the same. Where is the Eugene I remember? The one we tried to save?

  “I’m about as comfortable as a field mouse in a rattler den,” said Grace.

  “You’re just being modest. I’m sure you’re more
of a prairie dog,” said Tim.

  Kyran sucked his teeth. Grace, at least, was beyond him in her comfort with AIs. He readied his tools, then parted her blond hair, exposing her neck. He saw the scaly red area from the previous squeeze, but decided not to mention it.

  “Grace, did I ever tell you about the day Raj got his first upgrade? After he left home for school?” He examined the squeeze site carefully. It wasn’t scar tissue—just a little skin irritation. He opened a drawer and removed a tube of conductive ointment, dabbing a small blob over the site.

  “I remember him being excited about it,” she said.

  “He’s still excited about upgrading,” Tim added. “I wonder what he’ll look like the next time we see him.”

  She began to turn towards the PodPooch, but Kyran gently guided her head back. “No, Grace. Just look forward. Eugene, please move in front to give her something to focus on.”

  “Eugene?” giggled Grace.

  “Tim,” growled the PodPooch.

  Kyran continued, too embarrassed and disgruntled to respond to Tim Trouncer. “Raj wanted to establish himself as mechflesh. But new mechflesh as advanced as a surgical hand, even an older model, requires acceptance in timed increments or it can cause problems.”

  “That’s true,” Tim said. “Raj had to acclimate my consciousness with the PodPooch chassis over the course of three weeks. I would have injured myself if he had just switched on the four legs.”

  “Yes, well Raj wasn’t so cautious with himself. He was sitting in his dormitory room reading through the documentation, his surgical hand resting on the table.” Kyran reached for a laser wand and removed the fine body hair over the new squeeze site. “There were several safeguards that he had to complete in order to do this, you see—”

  “Kyran,” Grace said, raising her right hand. “I’m getting nervous.”

  “Sorry. This will be quick.” He dabbed the site with a blob of disinfecting cream that also acted as an initial conductor for the squeeze. “So… Raj was curious, but he was still cloisterfolk. He didn’t have a clue how to operate the device. But instead of reading the instructions, he just started pressing things.”

  Grace laughed. Kyran chuckled with her, recalling Raj’s fumbling attempts to lie about it later.

  Tim did not laugh. “That’s when he activated the working mode,” said the PodPooch, his disquieting brown eyes on Kyran. “Raj told me this story. Are you sure you—”

  “Lemme guess,” Grace interrupted. “Blades and probes came popping out of it?”

  The PodPooch shook his head.

  “He zapped his roommate?”

  “What happened doesn’t really matter,” Kyran said. “The point is—”

  “He had a stroke,” said Tim.

  “What?” A tremble went through Grace’s body.

  “A small one, yes,” said Kyran awkwardly. “The dorm sensors alerted security. It was minor. He spent a week in care.”

  “I never heard that story,” Grace said quietly.

  “Raj tells it differently,” the PodPooch said.

  “But the stroke—that wasn’t my point,” Kyran continued, glaring at Tim.

  “Do tell,” said Tim.

  “We had not seen each other in more than a year,” Kyran said, picking up a fresh squeeze and applying it to Grace’s neck. “But working where he was recovering gave us a chance to talk, as colleagues and as brothers. A ten year gap in age puts space in a relationship, but now we were adults and the gulf had narrowed.”

  “Um, where are you going with this story?” Grace asked.

  “Patience,” he said, his eyes moving to Tim. “At first, I admonished Raj, you know, because he had no respect for the mayhem caused by ignoring a startup protocol—especially with a dangerous device like that. You don’t have to be a genius to know that a machine that works directly with your brain should not be taken lightly.”

  Kyran tapped Grace’s squeeze, watching as its status lights winked and reported normal. He stepped back and rotated Grace to face him.

  “Am I done?”

  “Nearly,” he said, tapping his ptenda to test the connection. “But as I was saying, my little brother, sitting in a medical pod, never felt sorry for what he did. All he could talk about was how he could rewrite the staging protocols for activation.”

  “While you were scared to death,” Grace said.

  “I never told him that. I didn’t want him to feel guilty. He was learning. And I was trying to be responsible.”

  “He knew anyway,” said Tim.

  “So he says,” said Kyran.

  “Well he’s one hell of a scientist and surgeon now, so something you did worked,” said Grace, her eyes darting between them.

  “I’m not so sure he’s grown wiser,” said Kyran.

  “He was quite methodical with me,” Tim said.

  Kyran bit his lip. “Raj should not, under any circumstances, have switched you on. It was a risk far beyond his ethical authority.”

  The PodPooch’s mimic-skinned face flickered. Surprise? Anger?

  Grace gripped the arms of her chair. “Kyran—what are you saying?”

  “He’s saying he wants me back in the lab. Answering questions. Taking tests,” Tim growled.

  “Stop!” Kyran shouted, his temples throbbing.

  His ptenda pinged.

  “Am I done?” Grace asked through gritted teeth.

  “Yes.” Kyran sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This had all come out wrong. He turned to the PodPooch. Tim snarled at him.

  “Tim. Listen. I don’t know what was lost when Raj rushed headlong into switching you on. We were trying to transfer Eugene Bransen’s consciousness. What happened was you, and you’re not Eugene. I’m not sure there’s anything of Eugene left!”

  “Does there have to be?” Grace shot out.

  Tim shook his doggish head—a very human gesture.

  “Eugene is still here,” the PodPooch said. “Part of him. But he’s grown beyond that. I’ve grown beyond that. I’m Tim. And it’s just as well. What human could be content as me, after living in a human body? After losing all that Eugene lost?”

  “Eugene wanted his consciousness to go on. Or do you remember that?” said Kyran. “It’s all mixed up in your matrix now. Earlier you said you wanted to be a roider. Eugene never wanted that.”

  “How would you know?” Grace demanded.

  “I knew Eugene,” Kyran said. “As an employee, a colleague. A… friend.” He paused. No need to go into old feelings.

  “But it’s different for me now, Kyran, can’t you see?” said Tim. “Even if you transferred Eugene’s consciousness precisely, the feel of it is different. I’m made of inorganics.”

  “You don’t know him anymore.”

  “I do,” Tim said. “But it’s more like knowing every detail of somebody else’s story.”

  “If Raj had been more careful, it could have been your story,” Kyran murmured.

  Grace reached out a hand, touched his shoulder.

  “You miss him, don’t you? You miss Eugene.”

  “Yes.”

  Grace sighed. “I’m all too familiar with Raj’s personal style. His way is the only way, sometimes.”

  “Like yours, Grace,” said Tim.

  “Hush.”

  “Then you can understand my problem with what he’s done,” Kyran said, looking up.

  “I can understand, yes,” said Grace, her blue eyes kind. “But there’s another angle here. Tim is a person too. An arrogant pooch, but a person.” She reached over and stroked Tim’s muzzle affectionately. “He doesn’t want to be called a mistake.”

  “I felt anxiety when I first reached consciousness,” Tim offered, “but that subsided as I organized my thoughts and memories. Now I’m fine, and Eugene is too. If it doesn’t bother me, it shouldn’t bother you.”

  Kyran looked at the floating PodPooch: an AI with the remnants of his friend for a brain. And Tim looked back, his brown eyes appealing in the mann
er of all dogs. And eerily enough, of Eugene, too.

  “You’re right,” Kyran said.

  Chapter 6

  Grace woke, opened her eyes, and stretched. Tentatively at first, then as strenuously as possible without losing her balance. Not bad. A few sore muscles, but otherwise she felt refreshed. She reached around and rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the ridged outline of the little foreign invader.

  Her stomach growled. She was as hungry as if she’d gone running. Time for some breakfast! She unstrapped her blankets and looked over at Tim, who hovered next to the viewport.

  “Hey,” she said.

  The PodPooch rotated to face her. “Good morning,” he said, uncharacteristically pensive. “Sleep well?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Though my body feels like I did a mini grinder.” She cracked her shoulders to punctuate. “Been looking outside?”

  “I have. More monochromatic than Mars.”

  “Might not seem so boring if we get out and walk in it,” she said. “What do you say to getting a pair of suits and—”

  Grace turned over too quickly and spiraled out of bed.

  “Overboard!” she laughed, midair. It took two seconds to reach the deck. In that time, she managed to roll into a nearly standing position. Her arms and legs used the ceiling and floor to arrest her spin.

  “Did you see that!” she said, pleased with herself.

  “Impressive,” Tim said dutifully.

  “I think so. Morning exercise is done.” She swayed on the ceiling straps. “I’m hungry.”

  Tim cocked his head. “Not surprised.”

  “Have you talked to Kyran, yet?” she asked. She grabbed her jacket and swung under her bed to find her boots.

  “No. But he’s been awake for three hours.”

  Tim sounded tired, quiet. Grace paused in the middle of fastening a boot.

  “Are you ok?” she asked.

  The PodPooch turned toward the viewport. His ears drooped. “I do understand his position,” he said.

  “It made me angry when he said you shouldn’t have been switched on,” Grace said. “Like you shouldn’t have been born.”