Brave New Girls: Tales of Girls and Gadgets

by Kate Moretti

  “We’re here,” Zane announced, rousing her from a fitful nap. “Get up and help me land this thing.”

  Wynn took her place in the pilot’s seat and let her mind run unfettered. She relied on her muscles to remember what to do rather than forcing her foggy brain to keep up.

  “Lanton, this is Zephyr. Requesting permission to land. Please issue coordinates,” Wynn croaked into the comm panel.

  “Stand by, Zephyr,” an authoritative male voice resonated through the ship’s speakers. Several minutes passed before the panel crackled back to life. “Zephyr, lower all shields and allow for an assisted landing.”

  Wynn arched her brow. She’d never been to a planet that insisted on landing visiting ships by tractor beam. The energy use was massive, and the landing systems in most ships were almost automatic these days.

  “Do you think we should?” Zane sat painfully straight in his chair. Ready to run. Ready to fight.

  “I don’t see what choice we have. If we don’t land, we starve.” Wynn surveyed the glowing panel, wishing it could make the decision for her. As if reading her thoughts, the ship’s lights dimmed, and she felt the gentle tug as the ship was towed down to the surface of Lanton. Rather than landing on an outdoor tarmac, the ship was pulled into a hangar with a retractable roof, which closed over them with a metallic groan.

  Once the ship landed, the rear hatch opened without preamble. Three massive men armed with black contraptions that looked more like small missile launchers than ordinary guns piled into the shuttle.

  “Citizen Delmar, you will follow the Council Guard off this ship, where you will be placed under immediate arrest. If you resist, you will be terminated.”

  Wynn looked over at Zane, whose dark brown eyes stretched wide with fear.

  This has been all for nothing. They’ll shoot us, burn the report, and pretend we never existed. As easy as squashing a spider with a boot.

  Zane scanned the ship and seemed to realize what Wynn already knew: there was no escape. He straightened and followed the guards, his chin jutting out, arrogant and proud. If he was going to jail, he would go with his head held high.

  What now? The ship was deserted but still encased in a steel prison. She wasn’t sure if she should stay and hide, wait for more guards, or disembark and hope that the muzzle of a gun wasn’t waiting for her.

  Food is outside, Wynn finally reasoned. She left the ship, gripping Pater’s satchel in her right hand, holding both hands aloft so no one would think she was armed.

  She was greeted by an enormous room lit by rows and rows of bright strip lights that cast an oddly purple hue on everything, giving the workers who milled about the hangar the air of plague victims. No guards. No guns. Wynn lowered her hands slowly. An earsplitting metallic creak sounded to her right, though Wynn was the only one who looked to see the source of the piercing noise. The Chairwoman entered, flanked by the Council Guard and looking like a white pearl encased by shining onyx.

  “My poor Miss Felstrander.” The Chairwoman’s voice emanated concern as it echoed from the concrete walls. Maternal. Warm. Utterly false. “What you must have been through.”

  “Madam Chairwoman?” Wynn descended to the hangar floor and took long strides toward the Chairwoman and her entourage.

  “When we heard that thug had hijacked your ship… we’ve been worried for your safety for days. Our tactical experts thought it was best to intercept you here rather than risk a confrontation out there. I’m so glad to see you well.”

  “Well enough, Madam Chairwoman.”

  “Calling home was a smart, smart move on your part, my dear. We asked your aunt to do what she could to keep you from landing. Delmar would have had too good a chance to escape on a planet like Tenturia. We’re much better equipped here. We didn’t want to risk anything happening to you.”

  Clearly.

  Wynn looked around at the array of expensive ships and equipment. Any small item in the room could have been sold to feed an entire contingent of miners for a solid month. With the money she could get for one of the ships, Wynn knew not. Five years? Ten? A lifetime?

  “What will happen to Zane—I mean, Mr. Delmar?” Wynn held her voice to its normal register at some cost.

  “He’ll be tried, of course. Stealing Council Records is treason.”

  “Of course.”

  “You know Delmar is the type who lives for chaos, don’t you? He’d been looking for something—anything—that might make the Council look poorly in the eyes of our people. We don’t worry about what he found but more that he was able to obtain it. Of course, we’ve known for weeks he was no real security guard.”

  “You let him stay on? Knowing that?”

  “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, my dear. I believe that’s how the saying goes. But let’s get you comfortable. You’ll ride with me back to Narylonia and we’ll get you prepared to start your course at the University. The more time you have on site to prepare, the better.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  With a deft movement of her hand, the entire Guard turned about-face and marched to a mammoth black ship that looked like a swooping bat. Nothing gleaming and white like the Council Tower. This was no shuttle like the Zephyr. They’d reach Narylonia in eight hours instead of three days.

  “Madam Chairwoman, I should go back to Tenturia. I’d like to check in on my father.” Wynn sat, feeling helpless as one of the attendants strapped her in like a child into a buggy.

  “My dear, I’d hoped to break the news to you more gently, but your father has passed. His illness was more severe than he let on, I’m afraid. There was nothing our Health Techs could do for him. We’re transferring your aunt to Narylonia. She can be of use to you there, I’m sure.”

  Wynn winced but willed the tears to remain in place. I will not let them see me cry. I will not.

  As soon as the ship was clear of the atmosphere and moving smoothly toward Narylonia, Wynn freed herself from her harness and sought out the nearest lavatory.

  Pater is gone. Zane won’t be far behind. They’ll hold a trial that looks more like the Narylonian Circus than a true legal proceeding. They’ll find him guilty after only a few minutes of deliberation. And they’ll execute him. No appeals. No jury. No counsel.

  The tears spilled over. Mostly for Pater. Knowing she’d never hear his voice booming off the laboratory walls. Some for Zane. She barely knew him, but he deserved better than this. Wynn composed herself enough to return to the cabin of the spacecraft. Her face looked red, but they’d not think twice about her mourning her father.

  As soon as she exited the lavatory, a crew of attendants descended upon her and exchanged her dowdy blue dress that smelled of three days of sweat and a musty old shuttle for a plush robe. They fed her. Bathed her. Waxed, shaved, filed, and trimmed every surface of her. She wanted to refuse, but she had no escape. No recourse. They dressed her in a fitted white dress with a modest neckline and sleeves to the elbows. There was a flutter about the waist that gave her the illusion of hips and a womanly figure.

  Heck of a trick, considering I still look like a twelve-year-old boy. Mercifully, the shoes were flat. And they fit. Of course they do. They’ve bought every pair of shoes I’ve had for three years. She hardly recognized the woman looking back at her in the mirror. Because I look like one of them. And this is only the first day.

  A metallic tasted tinged her mouth as she realized that the moment she entered the University, she was property of the Council—even more than she had been before.

  Study, comfortable lodging, good food. A chance at a meaningful career. Is it worth being their puppet?

  Wynn took her seat next to the Chairwoman and envied the pilot his smooth landing. She didn’t know what would happen to the Zephyr, and she felt stupid for not having asked. The ship was one of the few
mementos she had of Pater, and she’d left it behind.

  On Narylonia, the attendants sprang to action, escorting Wynn and the Chairwoman from the ship.

  “Let me show you to your quarters, dear.” The Chairwoman, three attendants, and two guards flanked Wynn.

  “I’m staying in the Tower?” Wynn asked when she realized their course hadn’t veered any closer to the University.

  “Yes, my dear. We figured it would be more convenient at first.”

  Code: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  The Chairwoman placed her hand on a security panel to the right of a door on the seventh floor of the Tower. The door whooshed open to reveal a garishly white apartment three times the size of her cottage on Tenturia.

  “I hope it’s to your liking.” The Chairwoman looked amused at Wynn’s befuddled expression.

  “Very much. But… who will be staying here with me?”

  “It’s all yours, dear. Though I imagine between tutors, stylists, and all the various coaches the Council has engaged for you, it won’t feel much like it. Your aunt will be next door.”

  I’m going to be living like a fairy queen while Pater rots. While Zane—Wynn shut the painful thought from her mind. At least about the latter, she could do something.

  “Madam Chairwoman, might we have a word in private?” Wynn eyed the attendants and Guards who stood awaiting orders.

  “Of course.” One nod of the Chairwoman’s head sent the others scurrying to the corridor. “What is it I can do for you, my dear?”

  “Madam Chairwoman, I can’t… it isn’t right… Zane didn’t steal the report. He shouldn’t be executed for something I did.” As the words spilled from her lips, she knew she may have just forfeited her life without sparing his, but she could not live with her cowardice if she did not speak the truth.

  “Of course he didn’t, Wynn. I didn’t leave that report behind by mistake. The Council doesn’t make mistakes.”

  “So why don’t you arrest me? Throw me in jail like Zane?” Wynn fought the urge to take a step backward.

  “Because, my dear, you’re of more use to us alive. Besides, isn’t this what your father always wanted? To see you in the University? You don’t seem to be the type of girl to treat her father’s wishes so lightly. Now don’t think about it anymore. Enjoy the comforts of your new home and be grateful for all the Council has done for you and your aunt.”

  Code: Be quiet, or we’ll make the mines look like paradise.

  “Very well.” Wynn nodded.

  The Chairwoman gave her a smug smile and left Wynn in the comfort of her gilded prison. She surveyed the comfortable rooms and slumped into a chair so plush she wasn’t sure she’d stop sinking before her rear hit the floor. This time, there were no tears. Only exhaustion. Rage. She rubbed her eyes and looked at her weary expression in the silver-framed mirror opposite the chair. She looked exactly as she was supposed to: the Council’s puppet.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Wynn wearily stood to answer it. Her hand paused on the delicate silver handle. An elocution coach? A tutor? A stylist? Had the Chairwoman already changed her mind and sent the Guard for her?

  Aunt Euphadora stood at the threshold of her door, straining under the weight of a massive suitcase. She looked perfectly groomed and better dressed than Wynn had ever seen her.

  Apparently, the stylists aren’t just for me.

  “Well, are you going to invite me in, Wynndolyn?” Euphadora rolled her perfectly mascaraed eyes at her niece.

  “Of course.” Wynn took the heavy case, set it just inside the door, and motioned to an empty chair.

  “You look gorgeous, Wynndolyn. I only wish your mother could have seen you dressed like a real Narylonian.”

  “I’m beginning to miss my old clothes.” Wynn took the seat opposite her aunt and gazed out the window that looked out over the perfectly manicured University grounds rather than look her aunt in the face.

  “How can you say such a thing? Do you really want to go back to Tenturia and spend your life in that forsaken hut of ours?”

  “If it would bring Pater back…”

  “But it won’t, so stop saying such nonsense in case your gibberish falls on the wrong ears.”

  “Aunt Euphadora, you must tell me truthfully. Did the Council send someone to kill Pater?” Wynn sat forward in her chair and took her aunt’s hand.

  Be truthful with me. If you’ve ever spoken a word of truth in your life, speak it now.

  “He was delirious by the time the Health Techs showed up, and he died only a few minutes later. If they gave him anything to end his life, it only shortened his pain.”

  Wynn gripped her aunt’s hand in appreciation and let it go. There was no artifice in her face or words.

  “I know you miss him, Wynndolyn. And your mother. It’s a cruel thing for a girl to grow up without her parents, as I should know. But you’re safe and being cared for by the Council better than even your parents could do for you. Be grateful. Be respectful. And work hard at your studies. It’s the best gift you could give your father’s memory.”

  Grateful. The word clunked in her brain like a heavy metal wrench on the concrete floors of her lab. Echoing. Unpleasant.

  “That case is full of your parents’ things. I’ll leave you to sort through them. When you’re hungry, come next door, and we’ll go to the Commissary together.”

  Wynn nodded and watched her aunt leave the room, walking gingerly on the heeled shoes she’d forgotten how to wear.

  Wynn considered lying down and giving in to her fatigue for a few hours before dinner but could not resist the temptation of the behemoth case. There were Mater’s dresses, ragged and plain compared to what the Council would provide; Pater’s favorite books; and tucked in a small wooden box was lovely necklace with a clear stone that must have been Mater’s, along with a note scrawled in Pater’s hand: For Wynn’s wedding. Wynn placed the jewel back in the case.

  Don’t count on it, Pater. The thought of raising children who would someday become leverage of the Council sent bile into her throat.

  Tucked into the creases of the case were Pater’s workbooks, some impossibly worn, some in better condition. There must have been twenty years’ worth of his research. Wynn took the newest-looking volume to her chair and pored over her father’s familiar script.

  Within the hour, Wynn knew two things for certain: her father knew how dangerous the Barylian was and had known for a few months he was dying. Barylian poisoning had killed her mother, as well. Countless miners. He’d even begun to calculate how many hours Wynn could spend in the lab each day with the least amount of exposure possible; she had years before it would have been a problem—she’d only ever handled small samples. Her parents had suffered far more exposure. The miners bathed in the stuff. It only took a few years at that rate of exposure for a healthy body to decay. What was worse, the Council knew and simply didn’t care. There would be no use for the miners once the Barylian ran out anyway. It was an elegant solution in their eyes.

  The last line of the journal read:

  “Cras credemus, hodie nihil, tomorrow we believe, but not today.”

  Code: Trust no one and bide your time.

  The Council had their report back. They’d used it as a means to lure her back. They had her ship. But the evidence in her hands was far more damning. She could overthrow the entire Council—if she could get anyone to listen. But they wouldn’t. No one would listen to a girl from a backward mining post with a death or two to avenge. Or two. Three once Zane was executed.

  The people listened to Scientists.

  Wynn looked over at the University grounds from her window. The opportunity to become one of them had been tossed in her lap. She would be grateful. She would do exactly as the Council bid, and she’d do it with a smi
le. She would study and earn their respect.

  And she would be their undoing.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Aimie K. Runyan is an author of historical fiction and lover of all things French and French-Canadian. Her debut novel, Promised to the Crown, forthcoming from Kensington Books in May 2016, is the story of the brave women who left their lives behind in France to help secure Louis XIV’s Quebec colony. She loves travel, cooking, nerd culture, movies, and of course, reading all the fiction she can get her hands on. She lives in Colorado with her amazing husband Allan, two adorable children, Ciarán and Aria, and her cowardly Shetland sheepdog, Pippin.

  THOUGHTS ON BRAVE NEW GIRLS

  “I’m perhaps not the typical contributor to this anthology. I’ve always been a liberal arts girl, and not because I was told ‘that’s what girls do’. Quite the opposite. My older sisters excelled in math and science while I was off cavorting with the English geeks and drama nerds. That said, I want my daughter to have the same gift my parents gave me—to know that a woman’s place is wherever she damn well wants it to be. And I also love, love, love a well-written sci-fi or fantasy story, in book or movie form. I think they are a powerful vehicle for showing us the possibilities in store for human kind, for better or for worse.”

  Illustration for “Flight of the Zephyr” by Jennifer L. Lopez

  THE DATA TOURIST

  by Davien Thomas

  An crosses the jet bridge into the sterile area of the Las Vegas spaceport and is immediately struck by the difference in the color of the ambient light. It’s brighter and a broader spectrum than she normally sees with the energy restrictions on her homeworld. There will be many differences during this trip, though. An reminds herself that difference is not always something that should be changed. As an offworld tourist, An is nervous about what she has heard about Earth—a planet she has never before visited or seen up close.