The Colonists (The Movement Trilogy)

by Jason Gurley

A waitlist, Tasneem said. You must have an amazing job.

  Not exactly.

  No? What do you do? Why were you on the platform when I -- when I crashed into it?

  Ishy said, Put your finger behind my ear.

  I'm sorry?

  Just put your finger behind my ear, Ishy said.

  Tasneem looked uncertain, but she pressed her finger against the soft dimple of skin behind Ishy's left earlobe.

  Slide your finger down, Ishy said. Yes, just like that. Okay, now look at it.

  Tasneem held up her finger so they could both see it.

  My, Tasneem said.

  The pad of her index finger was nearly white with dust.

  Moon dust, Ishy said. I clean the platform you crashed into.

  Jesus, Tasneem said. That must take forever.

  It keeps credits in my pocket, Ishy said.

  Tasneem shook her head. What do you dream of, Ishy?

  What do you mean?

  Nobody wants to scrub moon dust every day of their lives. If you could do anything, what --

  I'd fly, Ishy said quickly.

  Fly?

  I'd hire myself out to a ship, and I'd go along and see the system. Easy.

  You didn't even have to think about it, Tasneem said.

  I guess not, no.

  What would you hire out as? Surely not a cleaner.

  Ship's mechanic, probably. But nobody would have me. You have to have years as an apprentice to get those jobs.

  So have you tried to find an apprenticeship? Tasneem asked.

  Ishy frowned. There's no use. Most of those jobs go to Machiners who marry into Onyx.

  Surely not --

  It's true, Ishy said. If I found a proper man, then I could get an apprenticeship just like that.

  You don't sound like you buy it, Tasneem said.

  Ishy tried not to shake her head. I don't think it's fair, she said. I'm no prodigy, but I'm a natural fixer. Mechanical things -- they just come to me, you know? But I don't want to have to sign my life away to some man just to get that job.

  Tasneem smiled.

  What? Ishy asked.

  You're downright revolutionary, Tasneem said. I just don't think you know it yet.

  What do you mean?

  Oh, I'll tell you a bit more later, perhaps, Tasneem said. But let me ask you something first.

  What's that? Ishy asked, a little suspicious.

  How would you like to be my ship's mechanic?

  Farewell

  The Maasi hangs in the belt like a smoldering coal. Sparks flit from its damaged hull and are extinguished in the vacuum outside. It is swept along in the belt like an asteroid itself. It might almost pass for one, if not for the cloud of shrapnel that floats about it.

  Ishy stands on the bridge, staring through the windows at the current of rocks. Beyond the belt, she can see the sun, distant but bright. It breaks over a large asteroid, its rays needling the ship. Ishy squints, but does not move away from the glass. The sun is not warm today.

  Tarae is sitting on the floor beside Ishy, her face damp. She looks up at Ishy.

  She's gone, Tarae says. She's really and truly gone.

  Ishy says nothing.

  I've never known someone who died before, Tarae confesses. People always talk about how much it hurts when someone dies. Like their grief causes them actual, physical pain. You know?

  Ishy is silent.

  Tarae's voice cracks. They don't talk about how your insides just disappear, she says. Ishy, it's like everything inside of me is gone. I feel so empty. I actually feel empty. It was horrible to see her like that, just crumpled on the floor. Her hair was completely white, Ishy. You know what that means, don't you? She told all of us the story before, probably twenty times. Every other human being who took Soma died, she told us. Their hair went white, and then they just died. No mess, no blood, no reason. Just dead. She was the exception, Ishy. She was supposed to live forever. She was supposed to be the one woman who beat that stupid fucking drug.

  The room echoes with Ishy's silence, and Tarae grabs Ishy's overalls and tugs.

  Ishy, please talk to me, she pleads.

  So Ishy does.

  • • •

  When I was born, my mother died, Ishy says. It was like the dark ages on Meili, at least if you were a Machiner. Pregnant Machiners weren't given anything. No medicines if they needed them. No training. They were sent to a room with a table and a single attendant, and they would scream for hours, sometimes days, and then they would finally give birth out of pure exhaustion.

  Tarae shivers.

  The attendant would hand over the baby and leave, their job complete. Cutting the cord, that was up to the new parents. Bathing the baby was their job. They had to get the baby back to their quarters on their own. Most babies picked up some sort of virus between the birthing lockers and the residential compartments. There were stories of women who would bundle their babies to protect them from the germs that all the other people carried, only to get back to their compartments and find that they'd suffocated their baby. It was goddamn primitive, Ishy says.

  You survived, though, Tarae says, her hand still resting on Ishy's knee.

  I did, Ishy says. But my mother didn't. She died on the fucking table, like a peasant woman. My father saw her hold me, and then saw me slide out of her arms when they went limp. He caught me by the cord, Ishy says. By the cord, Tarae. Can you imagine? Everything slick with blood, my mother just -- just gone, just like that. And there he is, terrified and overwhelmed and alone and the world just wants to crack him in two.

  I'm sorry, Tarae says. I can't imagine.

  Ishy exhales and her breath fogs the glass. He gave me up, she says. After just a few days. I don't blame him, and I never did. I'm sure I just reminded him of my mother. Her name was Setsuko. I've never even seen a picture of her. I saw my father once, when I was a teenager. He didn't see me. I don't think he would have known me.

  Tarae has no words.

  From my earliest days as a Machine ward, Ishy says, I wanted to fix things. I broke my family, and I couldn't fix them, so I taught myself to fix a broken cup, and then a water spigot, and then a table that wobbled. I learned how to fix almost anything, so that I would never break something so irretrievably ever again. My entire life was penance for being born, Tarae.

  Ishy looks down at Tarae, whose eyes have welled up.

  I've had a long time to think about these things, Ishy says. Tasneem found me, and she gave me something irreplaceable. She gave me hope, and a new family, and she put these hands to work keeping dreams alive. And now she's gone, too, Tarae. And there was no time to thank her, no time to tell her goodbye.

  I don't even know why she's dead, Tarae says, her voice breaking a little more.

  Varien appears on the deck behind them.

  I do, he says. I think you should both come with me.

  The two women start to follow, but a blinking orange light draws Ishy's attention.

  Tarae, she says, pointing.

  Tarae goes to the communications console.

  What is it? Varien asks, stepping in close.

  It's Catrine, Tarae says.

  What does she say? Ishy asks.

  Tarae looks up at Varien, then switches the audio to speaker.

  Tasneem... it's Catrine. I know that maybe this message is the last thing you want to hear. I'm sorry. I wouldn't send it, except -- well, I need help. I'm with a new friend. She's... she'll be your friend, too, I think. She's of the same mind. Tasneem, we're adrift, and I can't think of anybody else who might help us. I hope you'll put our differences aside, even just for a short time. I think it's important that the two of you meet.

  We're on our way to you now. We caught a ride on a little boat, and they're going to put us off at Saffron. We'll get a pod from there. Please -- please don't say no. You're all we have now.

  I -- we'll see you soon.

  Tarae's eyes glisten with new tears.

  Catrine, she says. She
's going to come apart when she hears.

  Who will tell her? Ishy asks.

  Varien looks at both of them, then says, I will.

  Ishy regards him carefully. You're sure?

  He nods, though he looks anything but certain. Yes, he says. Tarae, can you --

  Yes, Tarae says. Now?

  Yeah. Let's send it fast. We've got a lot to do.

  • • •

  Oona is already on the loading deck when the three of them come down the stairs with a clamor. Her expression is forlorn, and Ishy is startled to see that the knees of Oona's overalls are stained red. Oona's hands are rust-colored, dirty, and Ishy notices the pile of burgundy rags, squishy and wet, on the deck floor.

  Oona has been cleaning the kitchen, Ishy realizes.

  Oona, she says, I'm so sorry -- I should have helped. I didn't know.

  Ishy's heart aches when Oona looks at her, and she sees the redness in the other woman's eyes. There is no shortage of tears on the Maasi lately, Ishy thinks. Before long we won't have any left.

  Varien and Tarae come up behind her.

  The loading deck is the last place anybody wishes to be.

  Nobody has noticed the two containers resting in the shadows.

  • • •

  Varien seems uncomfortable, the only man aboard the ship, the newest recruit, surrounded by this small knot of mourning women. He stands to the side as Ishy and Tarae and Oona huddle together as if for warmth.

  Catrine messaged, Tarae says to Oona.

  Oona seems to brighten. Catrine?

  Ishy nods. Yes. She's coming here.

  Does she know? Oona asks. Did someone tell her? She will be -- she'll be crushed.

  Varien sent a reply, Tarae says. We didn't want to do it.

  Ishy looks back at Varien, standing alone, and goes to him.

  Are you okay? she asks.

  Varien takes a deep breath. Are any of us?

  I suppose not, Ishy says.

  I don't feel like I knew her well enough to say I'm going to miss her, he says.

  But you will.

  Yeah, Varien says. I really will. I could feel -- I don't know. I could feel what my life was going to be like on this ship, with her, with all of you. And I liked it. I had this image of myself --

  What image? Ishy asks.

  It's ridiculous.

  Tell me, she says.

  I had this image, Varien confesses, of myself at, I don't know. At sixty. Still here. Sort of her trusted confidante. All sorts of unspoken things between us, years of friendship, all the little knowing glances and understandings that come with that. I've never had any of that, and -- I could --

  You could feel that future, Ishy says.

  Yeah. And I loved it.

  We all felt that way. I always had this dream that Tasneem would give my eulogy, because, you know -- she'd still be around, right? She was a forever person, she'd probably bury my children and their children. She was my constant. She'd know us all better than anybody else ever could.

  Varien smiles sadly, then looks at the containers at the far end of the deck.

  Now she's gone, he says.

  Ishy touches his hand. We'll miss her, but we'll be okay, too.

  I don't know, he admits. There's nobody else like her.

  Catrine, Ishy says. When she gets here, we'll ask her to come home for good. She'll carry us on.

  Well, Varien says. We can ask her home, but the Maasi already has a new captain.

  Ishy looks surprised. What do you mean? None of us --

  Right, Varien says. None of us. Gather them all up, will you?

  • • •

  Ishy draws the other two together, and Varien chews his lip nervously.

  Abruptly he says, I didn't know Tasneem well enough. But I loved her, just like I know you all loved her. She saw something in me that I didn't know was there. She gave my life something very close to purpose. She gave it meaning.

  Oona says, What's going on?

  Varien looks embarrassed. There's something very important I need to tell you all. There's something Tasneem -- she entrusted me with something vitally important to all of our futures. I'm nervous to say that to you, because you all knew her so well, and I don't know why she chose me to carry such an urgent secret. But she did.

  What secret? Tarae asks.

  Varien fiddles with the databand on his wrist, then removes it and cracks the band at a seam, revealing a holojack. He hands it to Ishy, who looks confused.

  I suppose it's best to just show you, Varien says. Ishy, would you plug that in? I'm afraid I'd break it.

  Oona and Tarae watch as Ishy carries the band to the deck's holotable. She bends over and exposes the data jack, then wrinkles her nose. Ishy blows into the jack, and a puff of dust filters out.

  Careful, Varien says.

  Ishy pushes the databand into the jack, then turns the table on and steps back.

  Nothing happens.

  She turns to Varien. What exactly are we --

  The table flickers to life, and on the ceiling above, the holographic beam illuminates. The three-dimensional shape of a human appears faintly, and then begins to draw itself into existence, line by line, while the four Maasi crewmembers watch. It's like watching a tiny laser etch a figure into the air, and it takes an incredibly long time.

  Tarae turns to Ishy. What is this?

  Ishy shrugs.

  Varien, still watching the hologram construct itself, says, Just before Tasneem shut us all up in the holding room, she gave me that databand. And this earpiece, too.

  He removes the ear bud to show them.

  Why? Oona asks.

  I think that we should wait, he says, nodding in the direction of the holographic figure.

  It is visible now from the thighs down. Above that point, the figure is still a faint, pale blue outline. Below that point, a pair of unfamiliar trousers has been drawn in, and a pair of odd, uncovered shoes. Ten distinctly masculine toes wiggle and flex beneath the cuff of the trousers.

  It takes nearly an hour, but the time passes quickly. They watch the body appear, row by row, until they are staring at a young man with curly hair, a firm jaw, and two curious eyes. The man blinks, looks around the ship's deck, then turns his gaze downward and finds Oona, Tarae, Varien and Ishy.

  The man speaks, but nothing can be heard.

  Wait, Ishy says.

  She goes to the holotable and bends over behind it. She pulls open the circuit panel with a clack, then pokes around inside. Everybody is staring at her when she stands up, holding a short cable.

  Audio cable is fried, Ishy says. I don't suppose there's a replacement somewhere?

  Tarae shakes her head. I could rip one out of the comms console, but I think we'd probably need it later.

  Varien tilts his head up at the hologram. What's he doing? he asks.

  The three women look up.

  The figure is gesturing slowly, tracing invisible lines between his hands and his body.

  It's sign language, Tarae says. I think.

  Can you read it? Oona asks.

  It's -- it's not like the signing I know, she says. I can't tell what he's saying.

  They watch as the figure bows his head and seems to concentrate. Then he lifts his eyes to Tarae and paints another gesture in the air.

  What's he saying? Varien asks.

  Tarae smiles. He says he's sorry, that he was using a very old form of American Sign Language that he learned as a boy. I recognize what he's saying now. My mother lost her hearing when I was a girl, and we all learned to sign. Whatever American Sign Language is, it's completely unintelligible to me. But he's signing just like my mother now.

  Ishy turns to Varien. Want to tell us who this is?

  Tarae is still fixated on the figure.

  He says his name is David, Tarae interprets, and that he's here to...

  To what? Oona asks.

  Tarae's face seems to go pale.

  He says he's here to take us home, she s
ays.

  CATRINE

  Hitchhikers

  Reverend Purvis is out of breath when he arrives at the shuttleport.

  Wait, he says. Please wait.

  His cheeks are flushed when he lumbers to a stop at the second bay. The craft there is still being loaded, and he exhales in relief when he sees Evelyn hefting containers onto a loading cart.

  Evelyn, he calls.

  She looks up in surprise. Reverend, she says.

  You didn't tell me you were leaving, he says. I would have liked to have known. I thought we'd become friends. Was I wrong?

  Evelyn takes the man's hands. Of course not, Reverend. I need all the friends I can find right now.

  Catrine comes clattering down the loading ramp.

  Reverend Purvis, she says. You've come to see us off.

  Indeed, he says. Do you know where you're off to?

  Yes, Evelyn says.

  But we can't really talk about it, Catrine adds.

  Of course, Purvis says. But, Evelyn -- have you found what we discussed?

  Catrine says, We have.

  Purvis looks surprised.

  Just because we fight doesn't mean we don't share everything, Evelyn explains.

  Of course, Purvis says again. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume.

  You know, Catrine says, lifting another container onto the cart. We're going to need some friends with reach very soon. Can we count you among them?

  I'll do what I can, he says. And I don't want to keep you. I wanted to say goodbye.

  Evelyn throws her arms around the reverend. We'll be in touch soon, she says.

  Be careful, he advises.

  • • •

  When the loading doors close, Catrine and Evelyn are met by a stern woman with silvery hair.

  You're our ridealongs, yes? the woman asks.

  Catrine nods.

  Sheila Untagarde, the woman says. Captain of this little raft. Don't need to know your names, don't need to know why you're here. If you've been on Io, then I figure it's safe to assume you've got a past, and one that probably burns a little bit.

  Catrine opens her mouth, but the captain continues.

  Long as that past doesn't come biting at my ass, Untagarde says, we're going to do just fine. If it does, then you make sure your bags are still packed, because I'll be dropping you at the first outpost we pass, and I might not even slow down first. Understood?