2016 Young Explorer's Adventure Guide

by Maggie Allen

  “You best tell her that in person. Let’s figure out how.” Ollie held out a hand, and Dodger shook it solemnly. Letting go, Ollie beckoned him to sit on the chair with her. She punched up new nav charts. “Stargazer Station. That’s two star systems away, nearly a full night’s travel. If we burn hard, we could be there by morning.”

  “They’ll have guns and locks and cameras,” Dodger pointed out.

  “We got a Paris,” Ollie retorted, referring to their most studious, technical-minded crew member.

  Dodger grinned. “That we do! An’ one brilliant Captain.” He slapped the open-ship comms button. “All hands on deck! We got us an emergency here!” With that he stood up, and draped an arm about the girl’s shoulders. “Come on. We got us some heroic rescuin’ to go plan.” He paused, then looked sideways at her. “We got a plan, right?”

  “We will,” Ollie nibbled on her lip, thinking fast as she let him lead her out.

  Down in the hold, the crew assembled in the area normally reserved for ball games. Ollie remembered when she first arrived on ship, when the collective of oddly-shaped youths unnerved her. No longer. They were all family now, this crew of mostly space-born mutts. Dodger and Ollie were the only planet-born of the lot, but Dodger spent enough of his childhood in space that his bones never grew out all the way, leaving him below average in height for his age. Tiny and Mouse were both under four feet, Tiny because his legs were spindly and near useless, and Mouse because his legs were missing below the knees. The engineer, Paris, had the darkest skin and hair of anyone, though when he grinned it was a flash of white that brightened his whole face. He didn’t have a straight line in his body, but he never forgot a wiring diagram he looked at. Bongo had easily the longest arms of the group, and an easy way about him that made friends with everyone for all that he was the prankster of the crew. Mattie was the oldest at nearly twenty years old; looking at her she was mostly torso and curving, muscular arms; she could move tons of cargo in zero-gee like she was dancing with it. Mattie preferred playing net ball to reading and figuring, save for her stash of space-opera novels she scavenged. She wore her black hair in a tight braid that wrapped in a spiral on the back of her head, and had become like an older sister to Ollie in their time together.

  Out in space protein was scarce, gravity was rare, and accidents twisted the body; it was a combination that resulted in a wide variety in body shapes. You grew how you grew, and the children of the stars were no two alike.

  Dodger semi-floated down the stairs in the ship’s partial gee to stand in front of the crew, who arrayed in a semi-circle in front of him. Ollie settled herself on the stairs, wrapping her arms around her knees and propping her chin to ponder as their captain caught them up on current events. As usual, he didn’t mince words much. “Folks, we got us a situation here. Seems the Federation thinks they can take away our ship an’ turn us into station-bound idiots doin’ something “productive” for our corporate masters. I’m gettin’ the idea that’s working sanitation, food service, and bein’ some officer’s secretary.” A mutter passed through the ranks, and Dodger half-grinned at Paris. “You might end up some kinda engineer, maybe. You got the smarts for it. But what do I got? An’ Ollie here, we all remembers how she wants to stay away from the arms of her lovin’ family.”

  “You got leadership skills, Cap’n Dodger!” Mouse saluted with a cheeky grin. Beside him, Tiny cheered with a woo and a fist pump.

  “Yeah, but that ain’t gonna get me anything but re-programming in the Federation system, and a future herdin’ garbage, given my age and size,” Dodger pointed out. “Plus, there’s this complication. They took Callie’s ship, an’ her with it.” Smiles disappeared at that. For all that their diminutive captain was devoted to this ship-born family, they all knew his loyalty included his distant sister.

  “So we’re gonna get her back,” Ollie spoke into the sudden silence. “I been thinking. You know, it’ll really let their guard down if we come in voluntary-like.”

  Dodger turned and looked back incredulously. “Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me?”

  Ollie raised a hand. “Hear me out. They dragged off Callie. Like as not her crew, too, if they’re loyal like us. I mean, we’d all fight for you, right?” There was a mutter of assent around the bay. “Right. So she’s under guard. I reckon they’re all going to be guarded. But volunteers? What if we, poor orphan souls, saw the wisdom of the Federation?” She stood, placing her hand over her heart to look solemn. “I, for one, want to be schooled in how to be a proper citizen. I want a real job, something really productive for society. In fact, I think it’s my destiny to be a secretary to some high-ranked Federation official. Mattie, don’t you want to work in laundry?” Mattie looked startled, then started to chuckle wickedly, catching the drift of Ollie’s thoughts.

  As her plan formed in her head, Ollie started pointing around the floor. “Tiny and Mouse, you two would be great cleaning and recycling. Paris, I bet if you volunteered for maintenance or even decommission duty, you’d know that space station and dock like the back of your hand inside a day. You know, pick the really dirty jobs with fuel lines an’ propulsion systems, an’ other stuff that would help get one ship ready while makin’ it real hard for others to follow. Is somethin’ like that possible?”

  “Possible? Easy. It would be…fun.” Paris’s normally serious face broke into a smile that danced in his dark eyes.

  One by one as they were named the gang looked thoughtful, considering their parts. “Yeah, what about me?” Dodger demanded, a trifle cross that he hadn’t been the one to come up with a plan, but not so angry as to sabotage it outright. “What do ya think I’d be good at?”

  “Why, being bad of course,” Ollie grinned at him. “And real pissed off that we rebelled against your oh-so-wise leadership. Maybe you’ll get put in the holding cells so that you can find Callie and let the others in there know the plan. I ain’t never seen anyone pick a pocket or pilfer stuff like you. Surely you could get a couple door keys on your way in, and save ‘em until they’re needed? Someone gotta fetch out Callie.”

  Dodger’s chin lifted, and he planted his fists on his hips. “That’s right. I am the best.” And that was that. Ollie left the crew planning their performances, and went up to chart a course of surrender and compliance.

  It was a full sleeping cycle to get the New London to Stargazer Station, and Paris was at the helm as they opened up a hail with Ollie beside him. “Stargazer Station, this is the newly decommissioned FAGN ship New London, reporting in as ordered.” He winked at the girl standing by the chair, then added, “Our Captain was a little sulky about it all, so we had to lock him in his cabin. Could you send some officers to, ah, help him disembark?”

  “Of course, New London,” came the reply. “And thank you for your cooperation. You’ll find the orientation complex to your right immediately as you dock.”

  “I’m sure we will, Stargazer. New London out.” Paris turned off the comms and winked at Ollie, who was nervously biting her nails behind him. “So far so good. You know they’re going to have full grav on the station. That’ll make it harder on some of us.” Full gravity was hard to walk in, for those without long, straight legs.

  “I know,” Ollie said. “But ya know something? If we believe in each other, we can do a lot more than if we worry about the hard stuff. The odds ain’t great as it is.”

  Paris nodded. “It’s a good plan, though.” And with that solemn approval, he turned his attention to docking.

  Just as anticipated, there was very little trouble getting Dodger marched off under arrest, protesting loudly all the way. He was even sporting a darkening eye by the time they wrestled him to the bottom of the gangplank. “I got rights! I’m a Captain, doncha know? Hey!” He wriggled and shoved, and winked once back at a sober-faced Ollie to confirm that he’d taken care of his first acquisition.

  For the rest of the crew, there was paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork, and endless aptitude tests. Ollie noted that wh
erever they went, there were indeed armed adults and cameras constantly, hovering over them. As she had anticipated, Paris did indeed get shuffled off to maintenance and engineering, for his clear knowledge and experience keeping the New London in the sky. The rest of the crew adjusted their answers to all the questions as Ollie had directed, finding their ways into the innocuous but useful tasks the Federation assigned.

  Two days later, Ollie was sitting at her post as a very junior secretary to the station’s command staff, performing yet another system mock-backup training drill according to the manual, sighing over the tedium of it. She’d done much harder programming on board the ship, and the strain of pretending to be a wide-eyed, enthusiastic Federation drone was starting to wear on her. Additionally, the constant adult supervision made her tense – it was easier to keep your head down and do a very uncreative job than to improvise or improve the routine. She was sure it was well-intentioned. But there were no ball games, no yelling, no exploring of the station, no hide and seek or other games at all. To be sure, the adults were all very solicitious, and quick to find all of her mistakes for her. “Now, you must be more careful, Olivia.” Ollie was deathly tired of being called Olivia. “What if this was not a drill? Anything could happen.”

  Ollie wasn’t buying it. She’d made mistakes before. She’d nearly died once in the black, with only the quick-thinking Dodger saving her. The consequences of failure before ranged from death to a cuff across the head from Captain Bill or, after he was gone, a lot of flashing lights and warning sirens from the ship’s computer, followed by pointing and laughing from the rest of the crew. Ollie never made the same mistakes twice, because the consequences were either dangerous or embarrassing. The consequences here were lighter, and therefore taught her nothing. She was waiting for a sign. Or rather, a set of signs that her plan might be ready.

  Tiny and Mouse brought the first, when they came to dump her waste paper basket. Tiny winked. “Didja hear, Ollie? That rotten ol’ Captain Dodger got hisself dumped into a cell with some girl named Callie. He went through a bunch-a other cell mates, but she’s the only one that calms him down. Ain’t that a shocker?”

  “I’m shocked all right. Shocked it only took ‘em twelve days to find someone that calmed that reprobate.” Ollie nodded back. “When’s th’ regular day cycle where y’all take out the garbage?”

  “Tomorrow,” Mouse averred. He rode on the cart where his lack of legs wasn’t an issue, and manhandled the larger refuse cans with ease from his perch. “We dumps all these carts behind the kitchen ports, an’ sort it all into recycling vs. what gets dumped into orbit.”

  Ollie nodded. “Tomorrow, huh? Okay. If you guys see Mattie, tell her that she should do all the delicates in tomorrow’s wash.”

  “Sure thing, Ollie!” Tiny offered a cheeky little mock salute and turned to start pushing the cart and his mate out of the office. They passed a frowning Officer Hook, and immediately lost their smiles and ducked their heads. Everyone did, when Hook was around.

  Ollie, too, bent to her task as Hook came up to stand over her. “You’re planet-born, aren’t you girl?”

  “Yessir,” she offered in a small voice. But no more. She knew never to volunteer anything.

  Hook’s dark gaze swept over her, marking her blond hair and pale eyes, her straight-limbed delicate beauty, and his fingers tapped along the synth-leather of his belt. “You’ll do. You look better than the other children. We need an interview done tomorrow with a passing news broadcast crew; they’ve announced their intention to dock at oh-four-thirty in the second cycle.” He sniffed. “See if you can get someone to do your hair, and make sure you wear a clean uniform. You’re going to represent the face of the new Federation orphans initiative.” His smile was dark, and a little oily. “We must show we’re raising future generations. If you do a good job, you might even become a celebrity. We’ll need to keep you, at least, for when the inspections come.”

  “Me at least?” Ollie swallowed hard.

  “The others represent too high an impact on our protein allotment, and other resources. We’ll be shipping the rest of the leftovers off to work in the water reclamation facilities on one of Saturn’s rings in the old Earth system. The Federation needs ice.”

  “Water is life,” Ollie whispered, going a little pale. It was also well known that life expectancies were short for anyone stuck as an ice miner.

  “Just so, just so. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Olivia.” Hook turned to stalk out. “Miss Olivia. Yes, that’s what we’ll call you. Little Miss Orphan Olivia— “ the rest of his soliloquy was lost as the door shut behind him.

  Ollie’s voice was shaky as she stabbed the IT comms button. “’Scuse me. Maintenance? This is Ollie in the officers’ cube area. Can y’all send someone to look at our speakers? They’ve gone mighty crackly.”

  Paris’s calmer voice echoed back. “Roger that, Ollie. I’ll be there shortly.” And true to his word, appeared two minutes later. “What’s up? You look upset.”

  “It’s gotta be tonight,” Ollie whispered low, darting looks all around. “There’s a news crew coming, and Hook’s gonna ship out kids to the rings for ice mining. Betcha they’ll pick the troublemakers first.”

  The young man frowned. “No bet. Today, then. I’ll pass the word - let’s go at dinner.” He paused, then grinned whitely. “I got new keys today; I can cut grav to parts of the station at six bells in the dog’s watch. Reckon that’ll give us an advantage with the Feds at dinner. The New London is in berth twenty-two.”

  “I’ll let Mattie know – it’s laundry day and she can tell everyone,” Ollie’s spirits rose, and for the first time since landing on the space station, she went back to her bunk humming.

  Her room was only six feet square, with a bed that slid in and out of the wall and a small sink with a can that popped out of the floor in the corner when you stepped on a lever. The walls were metallic, and the floor a composite of ground space dust and polymer. Ollie smoothed out her sheet, and started putting her very few personals into the center. A few minutes later, “Laundry!” came the familiar cry outside her door, and Ollie opened it to see Mattie there with her hamper on wheels.

  “Thanks,” Ollie offered up her only spare uniform and towel. Her explanation was mindful of the bugs they expected to find in all their sleeping quarters. “Twenty-two, and flying practice tonight, six bells in the dog. Haven’t you always wanted to fly? Tell people to pack snacks if they can.”

  Mattie grinned, twirling the laundry cart easily over her head and down again so that Ollie could dump her load in. “Who don’t love flyin’? Twenty-two. Dinnertime for officers, snacks for us. Gotcha.” The long-armed girl turned and limped off with the cart, swooshing it from side to side as she went (complete with the appropriate whooshing sound effects), to go warn the rest of the crew in their various tasks.

  The next two hours passed, and Ollie’s stomach knotted back up. She chewed two cuticles ragged, and repacked her very few personals three times into a small bundle tied in a sheet. As six bells sounded through the station she ventured out into the corridor, heading toward the docking bays. Halfway there, she felt abruptly lighter. Anticipating what was to come, she grabbed at a doorway and waited another second. Her feet came off the floor as a klaxon sounded, and she pushed hard to float the rest of the way toward the next doorway. “Alert. Alert. Please remain calm and in your berths. Maintenance to the control rooms. Repeat—”

  In the distance, she could hear voices raised as officers yelled back and forth. Ollie continued her quick, weightless navigation of the hallways with the ease of one used to zero-gravity, meeting up with the crew as she went. Mattie joined her first, the older girl floating a bulging laundry sack behind her. She was graceful in motion without gravity, like a dancer without the need for legs or feet. “Tiny an’ Mouse are seein’ the garbage out from the prison level,” Mattie yelled into the other girl’s ear, until the klaxon abruptly went quiet. In a more normal tone, “Bongo’s already o
n board. Got a bunch of kids from there. Dodger an’ Callie are arguin’ about something, stowed in the garbage cans. Let’s go warm up the ship.”

  The two girls reached the cavernous main hangar, looking through the numbered slots to spot their own ship. Mattie saw the New London first, and launched toward it like an eagle striking through the air until she caught herself on the landing struts. Ollie followed, a trifle more seagull-like in her path, and tossed her small bundle up the gangplank. The two girls worked in tandem, unhooking the manual clips holding the London’s landing gear onto the tarmac.

  Paris appeared next, and launched himself at the ship next to the London, a similar FAGN-style cargo ship with Indian Princess painted on the hull. He had his own bundle with him that he lobbed unerringly toward the London’s hatch. “Callie’s ship,” he gasped, a touch out of breath. “I heard she an’ Dodge are fightin’. Just in case.” His grin transformed a somber face into a handsome one. “We got maybe ten minutes before they get the grav controls sorted out. Best be prepared for anything.”

  Ollie nodded, ignoring the faint twinge in her chest region at his smile. The three quickly unlocked the two ships, and Paris disappeared inside the Princess to warm up the engines while Mattie did the same on the London. Ollie pulled a pry bar from the toolkit and waited at the bottom of the gangplank.

  Tiny and Mouse appeared at the doorway pushing a long garbage barge loaded with six 200-liter cans, followed close behind by three Federation non-comms in uniform. “Stop! You can’t be in here!” The boys wrenched the barge sideways to dump the bins just in front of the entry way. The contents floated out in a cloud, including piles of refuse and six youths that scrabbled out of the mess.

  “Scatter!” Tiny shouted at them. With the ease of the space-born, the unknown children pushed off unerringly toward the Indian Princess. TIny then grabbed Mouse’s pack and launched himself across the void toward Ollie. The two caught free hands, and with an elbow locked around the hydraulic strut controlling the gangplank, Ollie flung the boy and his packs up into the hold. “More’s comin’! We just gotta hold ‘em off!” Tiny said as he continued on to his station.