Star Wanderers: Tales of the Far Outworlds (Omnibus V-VIII)

by Joe Vasicek

  I’m lost and alone.

  “It’s okay,” said Noemi. “I know how you feel.”

  “Y-you do?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’re okay with it, then? We can both be sister-wives together?”

  Again, there was that pause. It was shorter this time, though.

  “Yes,” Noemi whispered, her arms tensing even as she spoke. “Yes, I can share Jerem-ahra with you.”

  A feeling of welcome relief spread throughout Mariya’s entire being. It felt like the warmth and comfort she’d been longing for ever since they’d left Oriana Station. Still, it didn’t come without an edge to it. Was this truly Noemi’s choice, or was she just resigning herself to the inevitable?

  Of course it’s her choice, she told herself. After all, why would she choose otherwise?

  Chapter 14

  “Well, you seem different,” said Captain Elijah as Mariya bounded toward the docking bay. “Anything new that I should know about?”

  Mariya laughed nervously. “No, nothing at all.”

  “I take it you’re happy to see our new passengers then?”

  “Oh yes—very much.”

  Captain Elijah nodded, his hands clasped comfortably behind his back. He stood aside so as not to block her way, but Mariya hesitated by the exit hatch, not sure if it would be rude or not for her to leave.

  “I understand they’re close friends of yours. It’s good to have friends on board, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Were you afraid that they wouldn’t meet up with us before going to Zarmina? Is that what was troubling you before?”

  Mariya sighed. “No, I—it’s not that.”

  An awkward silence fell between them. Captain Elijah drew in a long breath and nodded slowly.

  “Well, it’s a good thing that we have you on board to help them adjust. That girl is just like your mother—doesn’t speak a word of Gaian.”

  “She knows a little,” said Mariya. More than either of us probably thinks.

  “Even so, the help is much appreciated. I don’t want anyone on this mission to feel like they aren’t part of the larger community. When we arrive at Zarmina, we’re going to need as much of a sense of community as we can get.”

  Is that why you’re always checking up on me at the most annoying times? Mariya thought—to herself, of course. She edged toward the door, wishing that the captain would catch the hint and let her go. Instead, he eyed her more intently.

  “Well, yeah,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything. “That makes sense if we aren’t going to see anyone from the outside universe for a while.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” said Elijah. “We may be headed for the Far Outworlds, but there are still a number of outlying settlements in the neighboring stars, and plenty of starfarers making trade runs between them. Once news of our colony spreads throughout the local sector, it won’t be long before we’ve reestablished contact with the outside universe.”

  And if we don’t?

  “This isn’t the first time that I’ve led one of these colony missions,” he continued. “And if it’s being cut off that you’re afraid of, I can assure you that that won’t be the case forever. It may take a while for the starfarers to come—perhaps even a few years—but when they do, it won’t just be trade goods they’re looking for.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Captain Elijah laughed and elbowed her in the side. “I think you know what I’m talking about. It’s a cycle that repeats itself countless times here in the Outworlds. A boy sets out on his father’s ship to seek his fortune among the stars, not knowing what fate awaits him. Tradition compels him to leave his birth world and find a girl at some distant star, keeping the Outworlds strong. I’m a Coreward man myself, least-aways by birth, but I know full well how the Outworld traditions work. Even in the furthest settlements, they’re still in effect.”

  Mariya’s cheeks warmed a little, and her arms grew tense. What was he saying—that she should wait for a star wanderer, like her mother had waited for her father? Trust her fate to the whims of chance, and whatever the cruel universe might send her? No—why should she, when the answer to all of her problems lay clearly in front of her? Jeremiah wasn’t a wild card. He was a known quantity—one of the only known quantities left in her life. Better to be his second wife than to trust her future to chance.

  “Thanks,” she said, “but I really need to be going. The others are waiting for me.”

  “Oh, really? Who? Where?”

  She groaned and fought back the urge to roll her eyes. “Noemi and Jeremiah, of course. They’re on the Ariadne—we’re going to have a language lesson.”

  “A language lesson? What a fine idea! I’d better leave you to it—but why don’t you hold it here, on the Hope of Oriana?”

  Because it’s not just about the language, you dolt, Mariya wanted to say. She was already halfway through the doorway to the docking airlocks, but he seemed almost oblivious to the awkwardness he was causing her.

  “Well, I suppose that’s all right,” he said with a flick of his broad hand. “There’s no problem with meeting in private, so long as you plan to help them integrate later on.”

  Integrate? Mariya thought. Who needs that when you have a good husband? Whether or not the captain had an answer to that, she was already out the door.

  * * * * *

  Noemi enjoyed cooking. It was something she was good at—a way for her to distinguish herself. Anyone could mix synthetics and instant foodstuffs to get something passable, but it took a special hand to turn processed space food into a hearty, fulfilling meal. Back home, she’d cultivated her skills in the hope that it would help her to overcome her own plainness. So many of the girls her age were prettier than she was, Mariya among them.

  Jeremahra sat directly behind her as she cooked, the dream monitor pulled over his head. Here on the Ariadne, they were alone together, which was more than could be said of the Hope of Oriana. She glanced over her shoulder and thought she saw him smile as the scent of her cooking filled the tiny starship. The neural jacks connected to the olfactory bulb directly through the brain stem, but it didn’t shut off the natural receptors. Wherever he was in the dream world, right about now he should be able to smell something delicious.

  The monitor blinked, and he began to stir. On the far side of the narrow cabin, the airlock door hissed open, and Mariya stepped through.

  “Noemi!” she called out, bounding over to kiss her on the cheek. Noemi smiled and received Mariya as graciously as she could, though a brief chill passed over her as they embraced.

  “What are you cooking? Stars of Earth, it smells delicious!”

  “Thank you,” said Noemi. “It’s not much—just a little snack for the lesson.”

  “A snack? It smells like a whole meal!”

  Jeremahra took the dream monitor off and rose to his feet. Before Noemi could respond, Mariya greeted him with a hug and a kiss. Noemi cringed, though she knew it was something she’d have to get used to. As she glazed the re-hydrated fruit slices and spread them out in an attractive presentation on a platter she’d borrowed from the Hope of Oriana’s mess hall, Jeremahra and Mariya sat down on the two wall-chairs facing each other across the tiny cabin.

  “Is there a table?” Mariya asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” said Noemi. “Normally, we just eat on the floor.”

  She gathered up the pot with the spiced beans together with the fruit platter and turned around to face them. Mariya scooted over as if to make room, but Jeremahra rose to his feet and motioned for her to sit down.

  “No,” she said, smiling at him. “You use the chair—I’ll sit on the floor.”

  He took the food from her and set it down carefully on the floor. When he saw that she hesitated, he shrugged and put the seat up. What is he doing? she wondered, until he sat down and motioned for her to join him. She did so gladly, noting that they had figured it out without having to resort to
Mariya to translate.

  “Well, are we ready to get started?” Mariya asked. She leaned forward on the edge of the chair, her hands clasped and elbows on her knees.

  “Hold on,” said Noemi. “Let’s pray over the food first.”

  Jeremahra looked at them both in confusion for a moment, but when they folded their arms he did the same. Noemi closed her eyes and bowed her head, waiting until only the hum of the Ariadne’s ventilation system sounded over the silence.

  “Our father, who art with Earth,” she prayed, “We gather before thee in this space, and ask thee to bless this food which thou hast given us. Please keep us safe in the midst of the starry deep, and guide and watch over us as we travel to the new world. Amen.”

  “Amen.”

  And please help me to accept thy will, she added silently. Whatever that may be.

  By the time she opened her eyes, the others had already started to help themselves. Mariya was speaking in a warm, lively way with Jeremahra, but her words came so fast that Noemi couldn’t make sense of any of them.

  “All right,” she said in Deltan as Noemi took a spoonful of beans and put them in her bowl. “How should we start—with Deltan, or with Gaian?”

  “Gaian, of course.” I need it to get around on my own.

  Mariya nodded. When she explained the plan to Jeremahra, though, he objected almost right away.

  “No,” he said. “I want to learn understand Noemi better. She understands already me.”

  That’s not exactly true, Noemi thought to herself. Still, it wasn’t worth making a fuss over. Perhaps it was for the best that he learn her language first, especially if Mariya was going to be a part of their family.

  “Are you okay with that?” asked Mariya.

  “Sure,” said Noemi, shrugging. “We’ll just do Gaian next time.”

  “All right. If you say so.”

  Mariya started him off with the most basic structures: personal pronouns, both singular, plural, and dual. The dual construction confused him, so she dropped that and focused on just the singular and the plural.

  “Shen, tkven,” she said, enunciating the words as she taught him the second person. “I love you—shen—I love you—tkven.”

  The first time, she pointed just to Jeremahra, while the second time, she pointed to the both of them. Noemi tensed a little at the choice of phrase, but went along as good-naturedly as she could manage.

  “I love tven,” said Jeremahra, mispronouncing the pronoun.

  “Not tven—tkven. Tuh-kuh-vuh—tkven.”

  He frowned. “tk’wen?”

  “No, no, no!” said Mariya, throwing her hands up in the air. Her gesture was so emphatic that Noemi couldn’t help but laugh.

  “T’kven,” said Jeremahra. “I love you—t’kven.”

  Mariya sighed and shook her head. “Close enough, I guess.” Jeremahra didn’t seem to understand, so Noemi put her arm around him. He looked at her and smiled—touch could sometimes say so much more than words.

  “I love you—t’kven,” he said, looking her in the eye.

  Is it just me you’re talking about, or me and Mariya?

  “Let’s move on to something else,” Noemi suggested.

  “Right,” said Mariya. “We’ll do pronunciation next.” She gave him some instructions in Gaian, then took a deep breath. “Tuh, t’eh; tsuh, ts’eh; kuh, q’eh; khe, qkhe. Now you.”

  Jeremahra stumbled through the first few letters without too much difficulty, but when he got to the last two, he screwed them up so badly that Noemi couldn’t hold back. She slapped her leg and burst into a fit of giggles.

  “No no no,” said Mariya, shaking her head. “Hot—tskheleh; water—ts’qkhaleh. Understand?”

  He tried to pronounce the words, but again failed miserably. Noemi was beside herself.

  “Ai, you star-born off-worlder! How am I ever going to tame your tongue?”

  “Now you see what I’ve had to deal with.”

  “You can say that again,” said Mariya. She shook her head and clucked with her tongue before explaining the sounds to Jeremahra in his own language. With the scolding look on her face, she cut a ridiculous picture, but Noemi did her best to regain her composure.

  “Hot—tskheleh,” Mariya explained. “Water—ts’qkhaleh. Tskheleh, ts’qkhaleh. Now you.”

  Jeremahra made a brave attempt, but failed spectacularly once again.

  “No, not khe,” said Mariya, putting a special emphasis on the sound. “Qkhe. Khe, qkhe.”

  “Tskhaleh,” he said, sounding like a two year-old child. Again, it was too much—Noemi’s shoulders shook as she broke into quiet peals of laughter.

  “No, no, NO!” said Mariya, throwing her hands in the air. “Ts’qkhaleh. Ts’qkhaleh.” She spoke quickly in Gaian, but though she pretended to be angry, Noemi could see that she could barely keep from laughing herself.

  Jeremahra sighed wearily and objected, but Mariya would have nothing of it. They argued until Noemi stopped laughing. When she saw that Jeremahra honestly wanted to stop, she coughed and leaned forward.

  “Sorry, Mariya, but could we stop for a break? I should probably clean up the food.”

  “You want to stop now? But we’re just barely getting started!”

  As they talked, Jeremahra rose to his feet and stretched. Noemi longed to do the same—with the three of them on board, the Ariadne felt almost unbearably cramped.

  “Just for a little while. I think we all could use a good stretch.”

  “Oh, all right,” said Mariya. She told Jeremahra, and he nodded before ducking through the cockpit doorway, leaving them both more or less alone.

  Noemi rose to her feet, careful to support her stomach as she did so. Mariya helped by gathering the dishes and putting them in the universal washer unit.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. How do you think the lesson went?”

  Noemi shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose. It’ll take time for him to learn, though. Deltan isn’t an easy language.”

  “Yeah, but he can’t hardly speak it at all. Honestly, I’m shocked that you two have been able to get along like this. It must be terribly awkward for you.”

  Why? Noemi wondered. But even if she tried to explain the connection she and Jeremahra shared, she doubted that Mariya would understand. When it was just the two of them in the silent void between stars, words mattered very little. It was touch, and not words, that dispelled the awful loneliness of space—touch that made their love real and tangible.

  “Don’t worry, though—I’ll teach him. He’ll be speaking Deltan like my dad in no time. After all, he was a star wanderer too. And if he can learn, I’m sure that Jerem-ahra can as well.”

  “Of course,” said Noemi, putting away the uneaten food for later.

  “Do you think it will work out, then, between the three of us? I mean, I don’t know how Jerem-ahra feels about it yet, but if he’s as confident as you …”

  Noemi’s arms tensed, and her body stiffened. Truthfully, she still felt nauseous every time she thought of Jeremahra taking Mariya as a second wife. It was horrible, she knew—after all, Mariya had just as much of a right to a happy future as she did—but she didn’t know if she could follow through.

  “Do you mind if I use the simulator?” she asked. “I could use some time alone right now.”

  Mariya gave her a funny look, but nodded. “Sure—this place is starting to feel cramped anyway. You don’t mind if I chat with Jerem-ahra for a bit, do you?”

  If I can’t stop you from marrying him, how can I stop you from talking with him?

  “No,” said Noemi, sighing as she pulled down one of the dream monitors from the overhead compartment. “Go right ahead.”

  * * * * *

  As Noemi went limp under the dream monitor, Mariya stood up and took a deep breath. The lesson had gone very well so far, even if Jeremiah couldn’t quite pronounce his qkhe’s. What mattered was that the three of them were getting along well together, in spit
e of any tension that may have existed before. If they could work together at something as small as a language lesson, then surely they could work their way up to something bigger. Couldn’t they?

  Jeremiah ducked through the doorway to the cabin, startling her out of her thoughts. He regarded his wife coolly for a moment before turning to face her.

  “Hello, Noe—I mean, Mariya.”

  “Hello,” she said, smiling at his less-than-innocent slip up.

  “You didn’t want to plug in?”

  “No,” she said, her heart beating a little faster. This is the first time since Alpha Oriana that we’ve been alone together, she realized. The thought sent shivers running across her skin—the only other time had been the visit to that slutty woman in the spokeside penthouse back on Oriana Station.

  Jeremiah paused, leaving an uneasy silence between them. Mariya wrung her hands, unsure how best to break it.

  “I really like your starship,” she blurted. “What’s it called?”

  “The Ariadne.”

  “Ooh—that’s a really pretty name. Where did it come from?”

  The question made her cringe. She sounded so stupid—why did she have to always make everything awkward by opening her big mouth? Fortunately, Jeremiah didn’t seem to mind much. He never did.

  “My great-grandfather was the one who built it. His birth world was in the New Pleiades, where the people still worship the stars. I think he named it after one of the pagan constellations, or maybe a legend from Earth.”

  “That’s fascinating,” said Mariya. She edged a little closer to him. “My father’s ship was the Medea—I think his grandfather also came from the New Pleiades. Maybe they knew each other.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Your father spoke with me earlier,” he said, frowning a little. “He, ah, asked about—”