The Clouded Sky

by Megan Crewe

  I skim through the Earth Travel employee records on the tablet Isis gave me, but there’s no mention of gambling in anyone’s profile. Of course, if he’d gotten in real trouble for it, he probably wouldn’t still be working there. Maybe Isis can dig up connecting information some other way. I shoot her a quick coded message.

  Then I throw myself back into the piloting simulator. When my nervousness about the task ahead starts to interfere with my concentration, I give myself moments here and there to lie back on my bunk and listen to the music I downloaded from Win’s message. The lilting notes carry me back to Earth in my head. This run down to the planet’s surface to get the kolzo, it’ll lead straight to my journey home.

  I itch to message Win now, to find out what Thlo said to him after she sent me off the other day. I don’t think I even thanked him for coming, for getting me into Earth Travel. There wasn’t much time after Thlo discovered us.

  So I’m looking forward to the next meeting—until Jule tells me a couple days later that Thlo is planning to evaluate my progress with the simulator. My nerves are jittering when we show up at the arranged workspace the next morning. As we step inside, the image on the room’s large screen catches my eye, and my uneasiness fades into the background.

  A planet is slowly rotating there, landmasses of green and gray interspersed with vast stretches of blue, hazed by streams of white cloud. It’s Earth-like enough that homesickness wells up inside me, even as I register that it’s not Earth. I don’t recognize those continents.

  Win and Isis are already in the room. “This is our future,” Thlo says, standing near the screen. “It will take nearly twelve years to move the station there, but there are few acceptable planets closer, and its environment is the most suitable. Mako has confirmed the station has all the necessary resources for the trip there accumulated and reserved, as long as we supplement them with scavenging and mining efforts as we travel. So here is our new world.”

  Win steps closer to the screen, the glow lighting his face, mingling with the awe there. Beside me, Jule stirs. I remember how he talked about his relief at being home on the station—maybe he’s not so enthusiastic about the idea of a new world. But when I glance over at him, he’s smiling.

  “I wanted you to see that, to help you keep in mind what all the risks we’ve taken were for,” Thlo says. “Now let’s get to work.”

  Jule and Win move to the consoles at opposite ends of the room. There’s a third on the back wall. I linger by the stool, watching the planet’s graceful rotation, as Thlo comes over.

  “Jeanant would have loved to see that,” I say. Even from the short time I knew him, I’m sure of that. He’d have loved knowing that we’re so close to finally realizing his goals.

  Thlo looks at me sharply, but her expression softens. “I wish he could have.”

  Sometimes she comes off so cold and aloof I forget how much he meant to her. The grief I saw on her face when I first told her he was dead. Her pain, watching his last moments in my re-creation. I don’t know exactly what they were to each other, but she’s shaped her whole life around his mission, even though he left her nearly twenty years ago.

  “It must have been hard when he first disappeared,” I venture. “Not knowing what happened to him. Going on without him.”

  “He did what he felt was best,” she says. “It was hard for him to completely trust anyone but himself.”

  I know. He praised my bravery, spoke to me with respect, and yet he wouldn’t give me the slightest responsibility beyond what he’d already planned. But then, maybe I should be glad he trusted me enough to even talk to me, Earthling that I am.

  “How did—” I hesitate, but the lifting of Thlo’s eyebrows prompts me to go on. “He grew up here like every other Kemyate. How did he start seeing Earthlings as being just as . . . human?”

  A bittersweet smile curves her lips. “He was always very concerned about other people, wherever they were from,” she says. “He told me more than once about— His aunt and uncle bought an Earthling pet, a baby, shortly before Jeanant was born. Jeanant would visit them all the time, so he and the boy grew up together. They became very close.”

  And he was able to see there wasn’t any real difference. “Is he—the Earthling—still here?”

  “I’d imagine so,” Thlo says. “The aunt and uncle tired of looking after him after some time, and sold him to another family who didn’t want Jeanant visiting.”

  “Oh. He must have been so . . .” Angry? Hurt? I can’t imagine.

  “Maybe he was a little too easily affected,” Thlo says. “That sort of emotion can get in the way of one’s focus.” She motions to the console, her expression shuttering. “Show me how far you’ve gotten.”

  Isis ambles over as I open the simulation program. “Do you want to see the last run I finished, or the one I’m working on?” I ask. I’ve made it through the seventh level, but I have no idea how good that is.

  “Let’s start with one you can complete,” Thlo says.

  My pulse starts to skip with her standing over me, but I manage to keep my hands still over the digitized controls, tuning out everything but the display in front of me. Ease forward. Veer left. Catch the engines as an errant scrap of metal tumbles by. The details change with every run-through, but the basic pattern stays the same. My pretend ship nearly falls into a spin, but I straighten it out just in time. Finally I navigate back to the “dock.”

  “And the next level?” Thlo says, with no hint of whether she’s pleased.

  In level eight, I finally get past the point that’s been tripping me up, where a speeding jetter and a cargo hauler are coming at the pod from opposite sides. Of course, ten seconds after that I fail to dodge a shifting sensor beam, and the display takes me back to the menu. I glance up, wiping my damp palms on my pants. “That’s as far as I’ve made it. But I’ll keep practicing.”

  “That’s great!” Isis says, with an enthusiasm that relieves me. “You’ve learned it quickly.”

  “I’ve been working my butt off,” I say. “I know how important this is.”

  The last bit I intend mainly for Thlo’s benefit, but she doesn’t react. “See how she handles the actual equipment,” she says to Isis, who nods.

  “I have a pod arranged—just need to adjust the security system.” She pats my shoulder. “Give me a few minutes.”

  “Sure,” I say, my stomach flipping. The actual equipment? I’m going out in a pod, now?

  Thlo gestures for me to stand and takes my seat, bringing up some sort of log. Isis has taken over the console Jule was working at. He saunters over and taps my elbow.

  “I could use your help in the other room,” he says.

  I follow him through the door into the even smaller side room, wondering what he’s talking about. The answer becomes obvious the second the door closes behind us. He stops, turning toward me and resting his hand on the wall beside my head, his dark brown eyes intent and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

  “I never realized how much I could enjoy watching a girl master a ship to her will,” he says slyly.

  I fold my arms in front of me, though he’s so close that means they brush his chest. “Even when it’s a fake ship?”

  “Hmmm. Maybe I just like seeing you impress the socks off everyone else.”

  He moves in, and I drop my arms, letting my head tip back against his waiting hand as the other traces along my neck and into my hair. In the heat of his kiss, my fears and uncertainties slip away. I tug him closer—one more, we have time for a little more of this—and the door across from us whispers open.

  I flinch in surprise, jerking away from Jule, and find myself staring into Win’s startled eyes. His gaze flicks between Jule and me. His jaw works. Then he swivels and stalks back out.

  “Win!” I say, but the door is already closed. Jule draws back as I push myself off the wall.

  “Does it matter?” he says.

  I turn, a sharp retort forming on my tongue, but the look h
e’s giving me isn’t defensive or haughty. More like he honestly wants to know.

  “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Win,” I say. “He’s put a lot of trust in me. And—I didn’t lie to him, but I was purposely not telling him.” He probably thinks I did lie. He’s been there for me every time I needed him and I didn’t trust him with this rather major change in my life here, one I should have known he’d stumble on if I didn’t. I bite my lip.

  “Well, if you need to talk to him, go talk to him,” Jule says with a terse shrug.

  “Are you just saying that because it makes you the bigger person?”

  That earns me a twitch that almost becomes a smirk. “I won’t say there’s no appeal there.”

  I shake my head at him, but I bob up to give him a quick peck on the lips too. “Thank you.”

  As it turns out, I don’t get the chance. I duck into the main room, and Isis grabs me.

  “We’re all set,” she says. “Let’s go—we’ve got a limited window.”

  “Right. Okay.” Win’s at his console, determinedly not looking at me. Maybe I’ll be able to talk to him after.

  The inner-shuttle Isis and I take drops low into the belly of the station. We hurry down a hall with dim lighting, into a narrow room that holds a row of teardrop-shaped pods only a little bigger than the average Earth SUV. Isis strides to one in the middle of the row and presses a control that opens up the front cabin. She gestures me in.

  The seat gives beneath me, and then firms, contouring to my body. I stare at the spread of controls in front of me. I had the vague hope this would magically feel normal once I was here, like driving my parents’ car back home. No such luck. I brush my fingers over the buttons and toggles, the glossy screen in their midst, connecting them to the images from the simulator. Then I glance at the neighboring seat.

  “I’ll have Odgan copiloting?”

  “Of course,” Isis says. “So you won’t need to take care of half the things the simulator’s been throwing at you. There’s a standard division of control—I’ll change how the simulation runs to reflect that now that you have the basics down. I just want you to get a sense of how the real thing feels.”

  She gestures at the screen, and several lights gleam on around the controls. An internal simulation appears on a display in front of me. “Just go through the first level,” Isis says.

  It’s been days since I completed that one, but using the real controls, it might as well be my first try. My hands reach at the wrong angles or distances; my fingers skitter. I make it to the goal, but I’m sweating. Isis squeezes my arm.

  “We can stay for a little while, let you get comfortable.”

  I inhale deeply, taking a moment to mentally prepare before diving into level two. I’m really going to be doing this—not just in a storage bay, but out there, sinking down toward those swirling red-and-purple clouds, with nothing but cold space all around. A fresh sweat breaks over me, chilling on my skin.

  I push myself to continue. The controls come a bit easier this time, but I end up “crashing” just a few seconds before docking. The simulator cycles back to the beginning. I go again, and again.

  By the time I’ve reached level four, my mind is finally caught up with the new arrangement, and I’m maneuvering the ship nearly as smoothly as I did in the console simulation. I finish that run on my first try. Then I stretch my arms over my head, giving myself a break.

  “Thlo and I are keeping all the information about the pod and where we’ll be launching from a secret, from everyone,” Isis says. “It’s meant a few delays, but we were able to borrow from Mako’s work last time to make all the arrangements ourselves. There’s no way anyone will be able to leak what we’re doing.”

  They didn’t think anyone would have before either. I swallow.

  “You got my message about Silmeru’s gambling comment?” I say. “Did that help?”

  “Britta searched the network, and I talked to Thlo,” Isis says. “No one currently employed by Earth Travel has any record regarding gambling that we can dig up—but that sort of activity, people do it where it won’t be recorded. It’s only if they get out of hand there’d be something filed.”

  “So we’re exactly where we were before.”

  “Not completely. It’s an extra data point for us to watch for.”

  I think back to the station map, the little square of the Tekala club highlighted on my terminal. “Could we go straight to where the ‘activity’ happens? See who from Earth Travel goes to those clubs? I could play the dumb Earthling again, listen in on people’s talk.”

  “That could be worth a try,” Isis says. “I’ve heard there are a few places that offer, ah, under-the-table type recreation. We can check which ones are closest to the Earth Travel division. Jule might have a better idea—he could take you around.”

  My mind balks at the idea. From the way Jule talked about those places, I suspect a request like that would lead to another argument. And there’s a practical problem too.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “If he’s been to places like that with his friends before, the regulars would recognize him . . . and then they’d be more wary around me. I’m sure he’d let you ‘borrow’ me, if you’re up for it.”

  “Good point,” Isis says. “I have to admit I’m a little curious to see these places for myself. It’s not been my usual—how do you say it in America?—my usual scene.” Amusement curls her lips. “I’ll just run it past Thlo—”

  “No,” I say hastily, and Isis’s eyebrows rise. “She told me not to investigate anymore,” I admit. “But I have to do something, Isis. I can’t just sit in Jule’s apartment all day waiting for the next meeting. Not after what happened to Britta. Not when the same thing could happen to me. You’ve seen that I sometimes pick up on things other people haven’t. This could make the difference between us completing the mission—and not.”

  Isis glances away, twisting a red-streaked curl around her forefinger. She lets it spring back into its usual shape, and frowns.

  “Don’t you want to find out who’s been betraying us, who hurt Britta like that?” I add.

  “Of course I do,” Isis says finally. “I think we should let you help however you can. And . . . Thlo has been mentioning Jeanant more than usual lately. She must be thinking about him a lot. Maybe, seeing the re-creation you made—maybe she’s fallen into his way of thinking, trying to take on everything herself.”

  Trying to make sure every detail of the plan is perfect. I wonder if Isis would have agreed to Win’s idea to leave early, to stretch the kolzo we have as far as we can, if Thlo hadn’t stepped in?

  “So what do you want to do?”

  Isis sighs, and touches my shoulder with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “Let’s make this our little side project. If we find something, we can tell Thlo I was the one investigating.” She waves at the pod’s controls. “But that’s for later. Right now, you need to work on your piloting.”

  22.

  Jule puts me on the inner-shuttle the next evening assuming I’m going to visit Isis and Britta and get some extra instruction on my piloting. It’s mostly true—I just don’t mention the additional extracurricular activities Isis and I have planned.

  Britta is as Isis described her, but it’s worse seeing her than hearing about it. Her movements are hesitant, her speech too, as if she needs to think twice as long to make sure she says what she means to. But she eagerly talks me through my few questions about the jet-pod before sending Isis and me off to explore these supposed gambling dens.

  We start with a place on the same level as the Earth Travel division, the “club” that would be most easily accessible to Silmeru’s source before and after work. I wander amid the patrons doing my dulled pet act, asking vague questions about what everyone is doing. The responses I get range from amusement to irritated dismissal, but no one seems hesitant talking in Kemyate within my hearing. Unfortunately, I don’t hear anyone talking about Earth Travel, rebels, or anything els
e useful.

  Two evenings later we drop in at Tekala, though Isis suspects it’s too upscale for the average Earth Travel employee. She winces when she looks at the menu’s prices. Raucous music that seems designed to scatter one’s nerves plays the whole time, and I have trouble hearing what people are saying even when they’re talking directly to me. Most of the clientele are young, wearing the edgy Kemyate-Earth hybrid clothes. We don’t stay as long as at the first place.

  “He probably wouldn’t go out every day,” Isis says. “We’d be very lucky to cross paths with this guy on our first few times out. Why don’t we check that place near Earth Travel again in a couple nights?”

  “Sure,” I say, but there’s a sinking feeling in my gut. Our expedition down to the planet is scheduled in four days. We’re running out of time.

  Before dinner the next day, I’m working on my Kemyate vocabulary with the Language Learner when the doorbell sounds, and sounds again, just a few minutes after I heard Jule come in. I ease away from the computer terminal, wondering if it’s Hain finally back to claim his drugs. The murmur of voices reaches me only faintly at first, but Jule and his visitor must walk over to the kitchen area, because after a few moments I can make out most of the words. And the voice. It’s Pavel.

  “You can’t tell me it isn’t happening,” he’s saying harshly. “I know it is. I want to know why. I’ve been a part of this team for . . . than you have, and we’re supposed to be working together. Thlo’s never shut any of us out before.”

  “If you’re concerned about how Thlo is managing the group, you should talk to her,” Jule replies.

  “I’ve tried. She tells me there’s nothing to worry about. But it’s not just me—I know Mako’s been left out too.”

  “Why come to me about it?” Jule asks.

  “I tried Darwin first,” Pavel admits. “He wouldn’t say anything. I’m the one who . . . you to Thlo, Jule. If there’s some problem in the group, don’t you think I should know?”