Blue Sky Tomorrows

by L. J. Hachmeister

  Cam burned that into his memory banks, making sure he’d remember it for later.

  “A daydreamer?” he said, trying to bait her into giving him more.

  Instead, she glanced again at the nurse’s station, as Jao got up and headed toward the two of them. “I’ve got another half hour in this thing,” Jaeia said, raising her arm. “But I’d better go. Jao’s one of the mean ones.”

  “You mean there are nice ones?”

  Jaeia smirked. “Well, not really.”

  Jaeia isn’t vicious, he decided, noting her continued relaxed posture, her even temperament. But there’s something more to her.

  Something that he dared not underestimate.

  “Nice to meet you, Cam,” she said, turning away.

  “Wait,” he said, not sure what he meant to add. Scratching his head, he came up with: “Uh, how long you gotta wear that thing?”

  Jaeia’s smirk broadened into a smile. “A few more days. See you tomorrow, then?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”

  Jao returned with a predictable glare, and an admonishment. “This isn’t time for socializing, cadet.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, allowing her to reconnect the modules and start the second trial.

  As he went through the next round of physical therapy, he couldn’t get Jaeia out of his head, glancing every so often her way as she walked around as played with interactive holograms, waiting out the restoration session.

  What’s your deal? How do you fit into all of this? he wondered. As he sat back down for Jao to analyze his latest walk, he locked eyes with the Fiorahian for the briefest of seconds. A smile, tentative and wistful, touched her lips.

  A memory of Kara jarred awake; he saw her face in the morning sunlight, humming the latest pop tune as she chopped old vegetables on the kitchen counter, trying to fix them all some kind of breakfast.

  Cam looked away quickly, realizing the lump in his throat.

  “Cadet, are you paying attention?” Jao said, slapping his shoulder.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.

  When he looked up, Jaeia was gone, but the memory of Kara’s quiet sacrifices, her sweetness, remained.

  Who are you, Jaeia Drachsi?

  He thought of Jetta, Jahx, what he knew so far, and the terror that still owned his heart.

  Reppen’s voice, calm and steady, floated up from recent memory: “Fear, hatred, and ignorance are your enemies.”

  No, he countered, grinding his teeth together, suppressing whatever emotion tried to surface against the anger of his torments, of the injustices he had incurred, and would continue to suffer until he completed his mission.

  “Everything else is a deception.”

  ***

  Points of light swirled all around him in a nebulous world of sight and sound.

  This place—

  Not a dream.

  But not real, either. Or at least not in a way Cam understood. Somewhere, standing far beyond the rim of consciousness, he reached out, skimming his fingers along the orbiting stars, stirring the iridescent clouds. As he marveled at the sensations—impossible, vibrant hues, perfect harmonic chords shimmering across the astral plane—a voice, steady and calm, whispered to him: “…reaction between a deprotonated alcohol and an alkyl halid that forms an ether…”

  Cam listened, captivated, breathless. Neurons and gray matter split apart painlessly, shooting out roots and connecting with parts of himself—and beyond himself—he didn’t realize. He touched the world around and within, a complex, fluid sphere once perceived beyond his reach, and shuddered. More. I need more.

  The voice continued on, relaying information faster. Concepts, once beyond his grasp, fell into place like jigsaw pieces righting and arranging themselves within the puzzle. Tell me everything.

  The world around him changed. Points of light converged and connected, glittering like a dewy spider web among the cosmos.

  He could reach out, touch any point in the link, and—

  No, this isn’t right.

  Connection beyond himself was a violation of everything he had come to know.

  What do you want? he called out, pulling back and away. Who are you?

  Blue, the color of the clear skies, secrets bound to his heart, skittered across the cosmic vastness. The universe retreated, fell back.

  (I’m sorry.)

  Cam woke to the black-haired boy sitting at his bedside, reading test questions off the datapad. Whatever impossible dream of vast connection, of knowledge strung together across the cosmos, decomposed under the dim light of the medical bay.

  “Hey,” Jahx said, putting down the device and swiveling in the work stool to face Cam.

  “Hey,” Cam replied. Jahx’s eyes, his calm demeanor made his stomach flutter.

  Was that real?

  No. Not possible. How could anything lie beyond the broken mess of his body? Don’t be stupid.

  With a groan, he sat up, his muscles already aching from the morning therapy session.

  “How’d you rest?”

  Cam stretched out his arms and legs, twisting at the waist, trying to get the kink out of his back. Turning out his left forearm, he considered pinching and dumping off the medication line to give himself more of a break than the thirty-minute window programmed into the machine. I hate being out of it.

  But he did feel better and getting back—and away from the medical ward—was more important than anything.

  “You want the—?”

  Cam raised his brows and widened his eyes, hoping Jahx would pick up on his anxiety. With the monitors behind him, he aimed his gaze to the left and right, trying to alert the boy of the unwanted eyes and ears monitoring their conversation.

  Jahx, without missing a beat, offered Cam his datapad. “—latest lesson from chemistry?”

  With a sigh and smile, he accepted the datapad. “Yeah, sure. But I haven’t had a chance to review anything.”

  “That’s okay,” Jahx said, resting his hand and chin on the siderail. “I’m sure you’ll get it.”

  Cam laughed. “Yeah, right. Somehow I’m all caught up.”

  But as he scrolled through the lesson, something clicked. Acid-base reactions. Aldehydes and ketones. Esters and amides.

  How is this possible?

  Excited and terrified at the same time, he switched over to the practice test.

  I know which reactions would produce a 2-pentyne in good yield. The hybridization of the central carbon in CH3C=N and the bond angle CCN = sp, 180 degrees…

  Cam swallowed hard. This isn’t possible.

  Holding tight to the datapad, he thought of the dream, trying to recall the details of that fully accessible place within the stars. Did… did something happen to me?

  Cam eyed his medication line, his mind whirling. Is it the drugs? Did that doctor do something to me?

  (Did Jahx—?)

  “Hey,” Jahx whispered. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I dunno, I just… I shouldn’t know all this.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself,” Jahx said, taking back the datapad and typing something into the keyboard. “You pick up stuff pretty quickly.”

  “But, I mean, we haven’t gone over it that much. Unless…” Cam half-laughed as he considered the most absurd possibility. “Have you always read to me while I slept?”

  Jahx paused, blushing. “Yes.”

  “Okay, but still—people don’t just wake up being smart.”

  “No, they don’t,” Jahx agreed.

  Shaking his head, he tried again. “Is… is it the meds?”

  “Well, they do promote neurogenesis,” Jahx said, as if trying to believe it himself.

  Digging his fingers into his forehead, Cam fought against the anxiety tangling up his belly.

  “Hey, relax,” Jahx said, touching his arm. “I’m sorry if I did anything to upset you. I’m just trying to help.”

  Cam brushed off the boy’s hand, but then caught and held on to it for a few secon
ds before letting it go again. “No, I’m sorry; I just don’t understand this. Everything’s always been hard for me.”

  “But hard because you haven’t really had a chance,” Jahx countered.

  The muscles between his shoulders knotted. You don’t know me.

  “Besides, every kid earned their spot here one way or another.”

  Cam tasted bile in the back of his throat, clenched his teeth together. “You’re right about that.”

  With a tilt of his head, Jahx lowered his voice and paced out his response, as if he didn’t want Cam to miss a single word. “You’re here for a reason, Cam.”

  Rogman’s delight, his threat, tightened down like a vice on Cam’s ribs. Not the one you think.

  Then, the dark-haired boy whispered something he would have never expected: “I’m glad you’re here, Cam.”

  Blushing, he tried to play it off. “It’s not like I’m going to be a galactic commander or anything; I’m just going to be another bloody soldier. You, Jahx—as smart as you are, you’re going to figure out this whole stupid game. Hell, maybe you’ll even figure out how to win this war.”

  Jahx stiffened. “I don’t know about that.”

  “No, really,” he chuckled, thinking the boy’s reaction a sign of humility. “If you can teach me organic chem and gaming strategy in a matter of a few weeks, you’ve got to be wicked talented.”

  Talented. The word resonated between them like a scream from one mountain range to another. Cam didn’t realize his loaded remark until he watched Jahx cringe, then try and wipe the expression from his face with the back of his sleeve.

  Talented.

  Talent.

  A word that held a negative connotation to most Starways Common speakers. Talent could mean natural skill or aptitude—or it could mean someone who possessed extrasensory perceptions.

  Like telepathy.

  No…

  Jahx forced a smile, jocularity. “Like you said before—I’d have to be the best. And I’m not really cut out to be a galactic commander.”

  Cam wavered, still in shock by his reaction. (Could it be…?)

  (Rogman wouldn’t allow a leech in the Academy.)

  Or would he?

  No. Cam wouldn’t have it. Not Jahx. Not the only person that he—

  Cam stopped himself, took a breath.

  “But if you were…”

  The words trembled off the boy’s lips. “Well… I guess even a galactic commander needs a good friend.”

  Cam didn’t know what to say or do. No. Not possible.

  Not that he even allowed himself to think past the cold weight sinking into his stomach. He braced his arms across himself, against whatever raw understanding iced his gut, as he stared at Jahx, at the boy who sat by his bedside, organic chemistry homework in hand.

  “I-I have to go,” Jahx said, fumbling with the datapad. After an awkward few seconds, he handed it to Cam. “Here’s that research project. I think I’ve got most of it figured out, but I need help on the final calculations. Well, only if you’re interested.”

  Cam looked it over, seeing the numbers and the formulas, but knowing only the thudding of his heart. Still, he couldn’t refuse the boy, not for reasons he could understand. “Okay.”

  Jahx flashed a shy grin. “Great. I didn’t know if you’d still want to be my partner.”

  So kind, he thought. He shuddered. No way he’s a leech.

  Leeches lied, manipulated, stole. Jahx never did any of those things.

  Jahx has only helped me.

  (Just like—)

  (—don’t say his name—)

  “Come on—I owe you,” Cam said, waving him off. Without thinking, he added: “But you shouldn’t stick around here too much.”

  “Why?”

  Jahx diverted his eyes again, as he always seemed to do when Cam struck a nerve. But this time, fear pinched his brows, as if he gleaned Cam’s warning before he could say it.

  “Uh...” Something stopped him from saying anything to Jahx—something more than the potential of Rogman spying on their conversation, or that he had hallucinated the machine monster and Iggie’s terror. Another possibility, one more terrifying than he could bring himself to believe as looked back at the blue-eyed boy, pained his heart more than he could bear. “Well, I’ll be out of here soon anyway. No sense in you wasting your time on me. And, you know, I’ve got your learning modules.”

  “Cam—”

  “Play those games,” he said, “that’s what’s so hot now anyway, right? Get really good and then teach me everything when I get back.”

  Jahx’s eyes flitted again to the door, down the quiet hallway. “Okay.”

  “Wait,” he said as Jahx gathered up his things.

  With an awkward grab, he pulled Jahx down. Pretending to give him a hug, he reached down with his right hand between the mattress and fished out the crackers. Keeping hold of Jahx, he slipped the package into the boy’s pocket.

  “Um, okay, get going,” Cam muttered, releasing him as soon as he made the transfer.

  Jahx stood back up, his cheeks pink, eyes bright. “Thanks, Cam.”

  For a second, Cam allowed himself a return smile. “Later, Jahx.”

  Chapter 17

  The next day, as he waited again for Jao to recalibrate his motor assist modules during his afternoon therapy session, Cam searched for familiar faces amongst the other patients. Dozens of kids crowded around holographic sims, some of them playing games, others observing as they waited out their therapies. Sitting again at the edge of the table, he hoped to see Tomia, Iggie, or—

  “Hey, Cam.”

  Cam jumped, surprised to see Jaeia pop up behind him.

  “Jeez—I didn’t see you,” he asked as she came around the table.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, curling her loose hair behind her ears.

  “You’re just really quiet; like a mouse or something.”

  Jaeia sighed, as if she’d heard it before. “Sorry.”

  Cam checked on Jao’s status. Back at the nurse’s station, outside the therapy room, she discussed something with big sweeping motions of her hands with one of the doctors. Squinting, Cam couldn’t make out if it was Dr. Verdebear or—

  Naum? He gripped the edge of the table. Oh, chak, no—

  A gentle hand touched his. “You okay?”

  “Y-yeah,” Cam said, broken from the thought. When he looked back, the doctor had left, and Jao stood hunched over the station, unaware or uncaring of their conversation.

  Jaeia followed his line of sight. “I don’t like it here, either.”

  “You mean the doctors?” he asked as a group of kids laughed at the loser in a fighter-sim match. “Or this entire place?”

  Jaeia watched as the loser of the match stormed off, tears in his eyes. “All of it,” she whispered.

  “Hey, launnie!”

  The shout caught both of their attention. Cam zeroed in on the culprit in the crowd of kids surrounding the fighter-sim. Walli. One of the kids he caught harassing Jahx in the out-of-order lavatory awhile back. His right lower leg bound in a restorative cast, he leaned on a lighted crutch and stabbed his finger at Jaeia. “Get over here, street rat.”

  Reflexively, he looked for Stempton, but didn’t see the freckle-faced bully.

  He’s on his own, Cam thought, scanning the room again. Mostly younger kids populated the therapy room—ones that would be intimidated by a lesser thug like Walli.

  “Come on, rat, play me,” he said, punching up a new game on the fighter sim. “Or are you just a chakking Scab?”

  The other kids howled with laughter, as if their two-legged, upright postures and four limbs didn’t contain mixed human genetics.

  Jaeia tapped on the restorative casing on her right wrist. “It’s almost done. I should get going—”

  “No,” Cam said as Walli continued to rile the group of kids around him, pointing and laughing at Jaeia. “Don’t back off. Not now.”

  “But I—”

&
nbsp; “Sometimes, all you have is the fight,” he said, making a fist with his right hand, the scars on his arm turning white. “And it doesn’t even matter if you win. Just show them that you won’t back down.”

  Jaeia balked, brow furrowed, hands twitching. Cam recognized the behavior, remembering his younger sisters, how they reacted when separated, not being able to stand any stressors apart from one another. Part of him softened, understanding her trepidation and anxiety, but survival instincts, driven by pain and terror, caused him to grab her by the jacket sleeve. “Fight.”

  As she walked over to the jeering crowd, he eyed the nurse’s station. Jao, and a few other medical staff, stood with datapads in hand, watching from afar.

  Is it because it’s a competition? he wondered, watching as Jaeia took the controls at the gaming console.

  Or was it something else? Something about the circumstances—

  Or the players?

  He didn’t know anything about Jahx’s gray-eyed sister—if she possessed any of her siblings’ smarts or strategies, what she’d do in a contentious situation such as this one. But as Walli initiated the game, fighter-class starships taking flight across a blue and yellow projected playing field, Cam regripped the therapy table, his hands burning.

  Walli’s better than I thought. The older cadet maneuvered his fighter with the deft skill of an accomplished player. With only two equally-matched ships pitted against each other in an all-out dog fight, Cam didn’t know how’d Jaeia, with just a few months of academy training, would fair against someone with experience.

  Doesn’t matter, he thought as Jaeia dodged Walli’s fire, she just needs to fight.

  “I’m going to gun you down,” Walli taunted, flicking his wrists left and right, his fighter winding through the geometric obstacles, laying down traps if she dared come around to face him.

  Sweat dotted the girl’s brow. The onlookers snickered as Walli clipped one of her wings, making her tense her grips on the controls and jerk too hard to the right, sending her fighter into a tailspin.

  “Stupid launnie,” someone laughed.

  Others chimed in as Walli overtook her fighter and prepped his missiles. “Yeah, waste of a space. Go back to your stinkhole.”