by T. J. Berry
Cheryl Ann asked Gary about Bala life before humans had arrived and coaxed him to tell her stories of his childhood. In return, she shared the ridiculous legends she’d heard about unicorns back on Earth. He’d laughed when she suggested that princesses rode unicorns. As if a unicorn would ever willingly consent to being a beast of burden.
He’d stopped trying to frighten her by that point and she started sitting cross-legged on the floor up next to the bars.
“So the Bala have been visiting Earth all throughout our history?” she asked.
“Yes, my father told me stories of the first expeditions. About how adorable you all were, thinking that dirt protected you from evil spirits. For the longest time you believed your sun revolved around you. Can you imagine a more self-centered bunch of dirt eaters? You thought the entire universe revolved around you.”
“We still kind of do,” she laughed.
“A small number of Bala thought humans should be exterminated before you spread off your little planet, but my father stood in front of the Pymmie and pleaded for your survival, telling them you were capable of great things.”
“Hm.” Cheryl Ann leaned her head against the bars. “Maybe not, though.”
“Yeah, maybe not,” he replied.
In the week before Cheryl Ann died, she’d stopped bringing him anything at all and she spent more and more time in his room, sitting in silence.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I don’t know how we’re going to make it,” she said, curling against the bars as he sat on the other side and leaned against her. She had her head on his shoulder and he could smell the old perfume on her unwashed jumpsuit. Their water stores were dwindling. Even Lake Vivaan had been drained for drinking. They’d eaten the vek weeks ago.
“How far to Flavos?” he asked.
“We flew flat-out for a while and made some progress, but then we had to shut down the engine when the redworms showed up. We’re dead in space. Even if we went back online, it would take nine months to get to Flavos. Gary, I don’t think there’s enough food for nine days. Jim passed out last night on the way to the cargo hold. He’s so lean already, the rations can’t keep him going.”
“And how are you doing?” he asked.
“You know, tired. Slow.” She pulled her head away from the bars and looked up at him. “I hate to ask. You’ve given so much already, but do you think your blood could help us?”
“It can heal wounds and diseases, but it’s not nourishment, any more than a shell or a bone.” He knew this firsthand from the Siege of Copernica Citadel where thousands of Bala had gone hungry within the walls after the Reason stopped all shipments coming into the fortress. His blood had helped the sick and injured, but the starving kept right on starving.
“I just don’t see a way out,” she said, resting her head again.
And she had been right. There was no way out for her. Eight days from that afternoon, she would be dead and he would eat her bones to save the ship.
Gary was devastated to be back in that room, infused with the memories of Cheryl Ann’s life and death. He rested his head on the lid of his trunk and for the first time in a decade, he allowed himself to cry.
CHAPTER TEN
Orbital Pirates
Jenny looked up as Gary entered the cockpit and took his spot near the wall. His eyes were red and bleary, as if he’d had a good cry. She couldn’t blame him; being back in that murder room would have brought her to tears too.
“You can change rooms if you want,” she said, “There’s no need for you to be in there.”
“It’s fine,” said Gary, though clearly it was not.
Jim dozed in the co-pilot’s chair. Jenny went back to monitoring their progress toward Beywey on her tablet. She smelled the heady toasted marshmallow odor of wood smoke coming off Jim’s sweater.
“You smell like a bloody campfire,” she muttered.
“Probably from the time we were on Flavos,” he replied, shifting to a more comfortable sleeping position.
“Flavos? You’re telling me that you haven’t washed that sweater in years? It has to be incredibly ripe.” She leaned over and sniffed the yarn – and then she understood. The tiniest hint of Cheryl Ann’s perfume wafted out of the threads. She didn’t know how Jim could stand to smell that all day long. “You’re just an old dirty bastard,” she said, so he wouldn’t know that he’d been found out.
It didn’t work. “It’s all I got left, Jen,” he said softly, and she had to stare at her tablet to keep from losing it. Jim always forgot that when he’d lost his wife, she’d lost her best friend. Jenny had actually met Cheryl Ann first. They’d even had an accidental first date.
Jenny had been in a Cascadian bar during her second year of engineering school. She’d watched the perky little brunette from a back table for a while. It took her a good fifteen minutes to work up the courage to take the seat next to her. The woman seemed genuinely pleased to have company. Jenny had a good feeling about this prospect. She was probably one of the incoming class of pilots in training. First-years, especially those from tiny towns in the middle of the country, were always eager to try out big city bars and sample the local cannabis culture of the region. As a second-year, Jenny was happy to play tour guide. Especially when the first-year in question was as adorable as this one.
“Hey, love,” said Jenny, hopping up onto the stool. “What are you drinking?”
Cheryl Ann lifted her glass and studied the contents warily.
“A martini,” she said. Then she leaned in close. “It’s not that good.”
“Here, let me try.” Jenny reached over and took a tiny sip. The drink tasted fine.
“What’s wrong with it?” Jenny asked.
“Is it supposed to taste that way? It’s the first one I’ve ever had. Everyone in the movies drinks them, but it’s not as sweet as I thought it would be.” Jenny understood. This woman wanted a sugary cocktail, not a blast of alcohol. She ordered a cosmopolitan for her new friend and offered to take the martini herself. She was usually more of a beer drinker, but now they both had a glass in hand. That was never a bad way to start things off.
The woman took a sip of her cocktail and smiled.
“Oh that’s exactly what I was looking for. Thanks. I’m Cheryl Ann.” She extended a hand.
“Jenny.” They shook. “You a first-year?”
“Yeah. That’s a cool accent. Are you from Australia?”
“Aotearoa.”
“Is that even a country?” asked Cheryl Ann.
“It’s what you call New Zealand,” said Jenny.
Cheryl Ann nodded, but Jenny knew she probably wouldn’t be able to point to it on a map. People knew where the Aussies lived, but they always thought Papua New Guinea was New Zealand.
“How about you?” asked Jenny.
“Oh, a little town named Townsend, Georgia. We’re known for having the smallest church in the country,” said Cheryl Ann.
“A small church is a good church,” said Jenny. Cheryl Ann laughed.
“So… are you interested in hanging out?” asked Jenny.
“Sure!” She was so excited that Jenny started planning out their entire evening in her head. First, a walk along the pier, maybe they’d stop for some seafood. The two of them would watch the sunset over the sound and then head back to Jenny’s apartment for dessert. It was her tried-and-true date formula.
They walked toward the ocean. Jenny showed Cheryl Ann all of the classic Cascadia sights. She had this tour down pat. She knew to start with Great Earthquake Memorial Park. She used to do that last, but it made for an awkward pivot to making out after seeing a monument to thousands of dead people. She now began her tour with the monument, then stopped for drinks at the largest coffee shop in the country. She and Cheryl Ann got cups of hot chocolate to keep them warm in the cool breeze coming off the water. A date with frozen hands could either end up with snuggles on a bench or one of the parties giving up and going home. Jenny no
longer took the chance.
Next, they stopped on the main boardwalk to watch the sunset. It was a clear evening and they could see all the way out to the mountains. The sky flamed with oranges and reds. It could not have been more perfect. When the sun had dipped behind the peaks, Jenny put her hand on the back of her date’s neck. She leaned in and brushed her lips against Cheryl Ann’s, teasing and daring her to kiss back. Cheryl Ann froze for a moment, then pulled away. She covered her mouth with her hand.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jenny. She could feel her face getting hot as Cheryl Ann laughed.
“Um. Do women kiss women in New Zealand?” Cheryl Ann asked.
“They do if they’re lesbians,” said Jenny pointedly. Cheryl Ann looked confused.
“Why would you think that I’m a lesbian?” she asked.
“Because we met in a gay bar. I didn’t think it was that much of a stretch.”
Cheryl Ann looked horrified. Jenny’s stomach dropped right down into her knees when she realized the mistake Cheryl Ann had made.
“That was a gay bar? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I totally did not mean to lead you on. I have no idea how to figure out which bars are for gay people. They should put a sign outside. So people know,” said Cheryl Ann.
“You didn’t see the six rainbow flags hanging from the roof?” asked Jenny, staring out over the water, dejected.
“I thought they were just being festive,” stammered Cheryl Ann. “Lots of people like rainbows. I like rainbows. Leprechauns like rainbows.”
Jenny burst out laughing.
“Well, you know, that was in fact the name of the bar… Lesbians and Leprechauns: A Bar for Rainbow Lovers,” said Jenny. She couldn’t help the cheeky comment. Not after what had just happened.
“And for prisms,” said Cheryl Ann. “And weather forecasters.”
“Hey, since you mention weather forecasters, what do you call oral sex with a meteorologist who has a vagina?”
“What?” Cheryl Ann looked genuinely curious.
“Cumulolingus,” said Jenny.
They both laughed until their stomachs hurt and tears ran down their faces.
“I’m sorry this wasn’t the special night you were hoping for,” said Cheryl Ann when they had caught their breath.
“It’s fine. To be honest, it’s already been more fun than most of the dates I’ve been on recently.”
Cheryl Ann got serious. “So let’s keep hanging out. I mean, I’m not going to have sex with you, but if we’re having fun, why end it?”
“All right,” said Jenny. It had been a long time since she’d been out with a woman simply as a friend. “Let’s get dinner.”
They shared a seafood boil – the kind that the servers dumped onto the table. They tossed shells into a bucket and talked until they were stuffed. Jenny learned how to properly pronounce “pecan,” and Cheryl Ann learned where to find New Zealand on a map.
They walked back to Jenny’s apartment and watched movies on the couch, talking through each and every scene until they both fell asleep on opposite ends with their legs a jumble in the middle.
It was the best first date Jenny ever had in her life and it was also how she had met her best friend in the entire universe. When she thought of Cheryl Ann, it was that version of her – the one laughing on the pier over weather-related oral sex jokes – which she remembered. Not the gaunt shell of a woman that she found dead on the floor of Gary’s room.
Jenny looked up from her memories. Gary was still standing near the back wall, adjusting those Bala ship controls that defied comprehension.
Jim was now asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. It had only been minutes since they’d left Earth, but he was at that point in his life where he fell asleep anywhere and at any time. She had even caught him asleep once in an airlock – a habit that was likely to catch up with him in a bad way someday.
The Jaggery had nearly reached Beywey Station, but every few dozen kilometers the ship jerked forward, like a colt straining against the bit, trying to break into a run. It was as if the ship knew Gary was back on board and wanted to stretch its legs and go for a gallop. With every jerking motion, Jenny felt jittery and cooped up.
“Can you tell it to calm down?” Jenny asked.
“It prefers to operate at full throttle,” said Gary.
“So do I,” said Jenny, zipping her jumpsuit against the cool air in the room. Gary had swapped out his prison-issued clothes for a warm wool sweater and thick work trousers. Stoneships were basically a temperate rainforest biome, a little too chilly for a girl raised in a maritime climate.
They passed through a gauntlet of local ships on routes between the handful of colonies left in this worn-out system. Besides the stragglers still eking out their survival on Earth, most of the residents of the solar system lived under plexiglas domes and pressurized canvas on a handful of fabricated moons and non-orbital space stations.
The Jaggery’s immense asteroid shape – now emblazoned with a giant pink flower – made her conspicuous in a sea of private rigs painted with the flags of long-dead nations. Jim started awake just as they passed one ship painted with dozens of white stars above a set of stripes. He put his hand over his heart.
“You don’t need to salute that flag any more,” said Jenny. “That nation doesn’t exist.”
“I will never stop saluting the flag,” said Jim. “You see your flag?”
“We’ve got stars and stripes too, but made up in a different way. You probably won’t see it up here. People from Aotearoa prefer to stay on the planet for the most part. But what you might see is the Tino Rangatiratanga. It’s a white wave between red and black. There are lots of Māori in space.”
“Drawn skyward by the allure of interplanetary travel?” asked Gary from the back.
“Actually, we wanted to stay on our land, but it became uninhabitable. Flooded, too hot, and poisoned by invaders,” said Jenny. “Even then, we tried to stay and fix it, but the Reason rounded up most of us for forced resettlement on one of their shiny new planets.”
“Sounds familiar,” said Gary.
Jim snorted, sounding both affronted and amused.
“Eventually, we pooled our funds to buy our own ships and start independent colonies free of the Reason,” continued Jenny. “A bunch of us have a community on Gymnoverium. We coexist peacefully with the Bala there. Everyone works together.”
“I know that place,” said Gary.
“The Reason calls it Heritage Bay, but its real name is Tūrangawaewae,” said Jenny.
“Is that where you’re taking Kaila after you find her?” asked Gary.
“Yeah. It’s the closest thing to a home we have. We have it all planned out. A little house in the woods near her family.”
A small two-seater streaked by them, doing a flyby to ensure the Jaggery crew knew they were being watched.
Most of the ships in the area belonged to the Reason. Their designs spoke of buildings full of engineers tasked with imposing efficiency and their un-patched hulls indicated very few run-ins with geodesic pirates. Everyone gave Reason ships a wide berth, preferring not to attract their attention.
“Do unicorns have a flag?” Jenny asked.
“The banner of my clan is cobalt blue, with silver stars noting each member within the family.”
“Neat.”
“If the League of Nations could take a recess for a moment, it looks like we’re being followed,” said Jim, pointing to a star-spangled ship that trailed them by a few dozen kilometers.
“Wow. No subtlety whatsoever,” said Jenny, scrolling through weapons menus. “I just want to get away from this damned planet. Gary, find out what they want while I get the guns ready.”
“This ship has no guns,” said Gary.
“Well, it didn’t used to…” replied Jim, switching on the comm. “Unidentified ship, this is the Jaggery. State your reason for following us.”
“Or be blown out of the sky,” said Jenny before Jim could switch off the
microphone.
The voice that came back over the comm was contrite in an exaggerated way that made everyone in the room doubt its sincerity.
“Oh sorry, Jaggery, we just happened to be going your way. Go ahead, we don’t want any trouble with a big stoneship like yours.”
“Thank you,” said Jim, clicking off the mic.
“That’s it?” asked Jenny, incredulously.
“Is what it?” replied Jim.
“You’re going to take their word for it.”
“They have no reason to bother us.”
“You are way too trusting,” said Jenny. “No reason except that this is an asteroid-sized Halcyon-class ship with about a billion dollars’ worth of cargo on board, not to mention that we’re about to stop at Beywey, meaning we’re probably stocking up on provisions to go FTL as soon as we get clear of the local traffic.”
“I don’t think–”
A blast rocked the rear of the Jaggery and the ship skidded sideways toward a freighter. Jenny adjusted thrusters so that they didn’t slam into anyone else.
“Take evasive action,” said Gary from the back, sounding for all the world like he thought he was the captain of the ship.
“I’ve got this, thanks. These kids are in heaps of trouble. Fire at will,” said Jenny. Jim tapped out the command to release two missiles toward the aggressive ship.
All three of them watched as the missiles hit the other hull, tearing a gash in the side and ejecting glittering bits of debris into the vacuum surrounding the ship.
“Any casualties?” asked Gary.
“No bodies floating,” said Jim, squinting at the screen.
Another blast shook the Jaggery from a different direction and propelled it forward as air vented from a breach at the rear of the ship. They drifted until Jenny adjusted the thrusters and slowed them back to a crawl.
