by Kurt Johnson
We do not leave family behind.
“Where are your pulsers?” Mom asked, taking the plate he offered and resting a hand lightly on his belt. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
“Weapon detectors,” Dad grumped. “I’d have to take them off and put them on again going into the NPD building, and then on the way out. If I suddenly need to be in a hurry,” he straightened, “it is best to have just one.”
“Ah,” Mom nodded and turned to me. “Ray, about yesterday.”
“AI?” Dad interjected, looking at me. Finding me expressionless, he turned his glance to Mom, “OK. I’ll get Cri ready. Wish me luck.”
When Dad left, Mom turned to me. “Anger. Raystar, you’re smaller than almost all Galactics. You’re a child. You don’t have the rights of an adult. Anger clouds your thinking, makes you destructive. Hurts your friends.” She took my hand in two of hers. I blew my hair out of my face and turned to her.
“Now, more than ever, beautiful child, you cannot afford cloudy judgment.”
“I was so wrong, Mom. I’d do anything to have AI back,” I sniffed, feeling my eyes burn. “I don’t know what to do. For him, for me, for any of this.” I waved my hand at the world.
“We’re a team, Ray. We won’t give up. And that means looking out for your people.” My people? I hadn’t thought of it that way. “You didn’t find AI in the waste unit,” she continued, “but he has many capabilities, even the ability to move. And he is old.”
I squashed a rebellious tear with an eye blink and the back of my hand. He could move? “Why’s old good?”
“He’s a survivor. If you didn’t find him, he is still somewhere,” Mom said, nodding. Then she added, “Probably.”
“Oh,” I frowned, chewing my lower lip, “so he’s either unable or unwilling to communicate?”
“Yes. While you and Cri are at school, I will see what resources you can use to find him.”
“Wait. What?”
“We do not leave family behind,” Mom said, raising her eyebrows to communicate a we’re-not-going-to-have-this-conversation-again look.
“Yes, I got that,” I huffed. I did actually have that part. “But what did you say about Cri?”
“Principal Entarch called us last night. Her investigation cleared Cri of wrongdoing. Entarch said Cri was to be commended on her bravery and would be welcomed back to school today.”
I frowned. “Great timing?”
“Indeed,” Dad said as he thumped down the stairs. “They steal hair from one of my daughters and then invite the expelled daughter back to school?”
Cri thudded down the stairs a moment after Dad. She wore tight, black leather pants, a ripped T-shirt, and a jean jacket with dulled spikes around the sleeves and collar. And she had a tattoo on her neck: “Peace, Love, Family, War.”
“What on Nem’?” Mom said, taking in her eldest daughter and glancing at Dad.
“Don’t make me change!” Cri said, grabbing my plate of unfinished breakfast and placing a hand on Mom’s arm.
Mom shook her head and looked at Dad, incredulous. “What is that on her neck?” She’d said “that” like you’d say when you spotted a leggy insect on the bathroom wall and pointed it out to the person who’s going to get rid of it for you.
Dad grinned. “It is good?” Then he saw Mom’s expression begin to change. He raised his four hands toward her. “Wait! It is not permanent.” He frowned. “I think.”
“Explain.” Mom said, moving to Cri and tilting Cri’s head to expose her neck.
Dad replied, “I had leftover military nanoink. We need to create our own advantages, however we can. We’ll be able to watch them at school.” He then turned to the control wall and commanded, “Activate ‘Eyes and Ears.’”
The house synth complied and two images flickered before resolving into focus. The first was a map similar to the terrain view Mom had called up. Icons that were clearly Blue River and our school appeared. Dad swiped the image, and we scrolled over farmland until we reached symbols that showed our compound and the Mesas. A tiny green light winked at us from the compound symbol.
“It’s a tracker, Mom,” Cri said, shoving my food into her mouth. Her head was still tilted sideways.
“And…” Dad waved to the other image. It was the four of us, there in our kitchen. Cri was making a face, pulling the hair out of her mouth that had gotten tangled in her fork. Mom was glowering—albeit less so—at Dad. I was staring open-mouthed at myself. I closed my mouth.
Dad beamed at his ingenuity. “The ink is both the tracker and the vid broadcaster!”
Mom looked at him, shaking her head. “A tattoo?”
“Why not? Our children are brawlers,” Dad said, punching two fists together. “Cri has taken on guards, and this one,” he pointed to me, “started a riot. The clothes, the nanoink, they are perfect.”
Technically, it was a food fight.
Mom closed her eyes, put a hand on her temple, and nodded to herself. “I’m going upstairs to change. You two be ready. We leave in ten.” Dad, victorious, walked to his office and started giving commands to the house synth.
I looked at Cri. “This is a horrible plan.”
She met my gaze. “You’ve got your sparky nanowhatever”—she touched her tat—“and we’ve got ‘Eyes and Ears.’ It’s just another day of school.” She grinned. “And it could be our last day of school! Think of that!”
“Cri! That isn’t even close to good!”
“Ray,” Cri took my hand, “just one day. I finally get to do something cool.”
“Cri, we can’t mess this up. I don’t want to go to school.”
“It’s always about you,” she said, her gaze hiding emotions just under the surface. She dropped my hand.
“I don’t want anything to be about me. I don’t want to be scared anymore. I want to do my stupid homework!”
“Pfft,” she said. Whatever thoughts were there before went deeper, and her expression flickered to mischief. “You realize we’re being dropped off and picked up in an assault tank.”
I rolled my eyes. She smacked my back as she passed me and walked into the courtyard.
“C’mon! What can happen?” she asked, over her shoulder.
You never ask that.
Never.
28
“It is a tank.” The Glean NPD officer’s helmet squeezed his cheeks together and pushed his wet lips forward. On the viewscreen, he looked like a red snapper.
“My husband took the aircar.”
“Your spare car is…is an assault tank?” His fishlips sputtered.
“Officer Jalusk,” Mom snapped her lipstick shut and puckered at an image of herself in a smaller viewscreen off to one side, “we’re going to be late for school.” Satisfied with her reflection, she turned back to the Glean officer and arched an eyebrow at him.
“I...,” Jalusk sighed, “one moment.” The screen flickered to black.
With the atmosphere cannon reinstalled on the lev-sled, Cri and I had access to the spacious six-person command center nestled in the tank’s belly. Cool air flowed around us. The military seats were firm but wrapped around our bodies. “Pressure gel,” I think it was called. In the event that we had to turn quickly and the inertial dampeners—which negated the effects of gravity—failed, the gel would keep us from turning into Galactic paste.
The gel was the military’s Plan B to keep a crew safe, but the chair wrapped around my kid body and was a joy to wriggle into.
It was comfortable enough that I could forget I was in an assault tank. The cannon was made to fit into the space that I’d been calling a container bed. I recalled one of the books Mom had made me read. Glean tanks were modular. Mom and Dad had ordered this one with a land-to-space armament—like they’d been expecting trouble years ago. Or maybe the atmosphere cannon had been on sale. Perhaps an impulse buy as they left the assault tank store?
Nova. I knew they loved me. I knew it. But I didn’t know anything else about them.
And thus, I didn’t know anything about me. I winced at that realization. Who was I? Or maybe what was I? was a better question.
Command displays provided a 360-degree view of the world. Although a short corridor connected the cockpit to the command center, we witnessed the exchange on our own viewscreens. Cri and I traded grins and carefully put our feet up on the console. You know, carefully, so as not to shoot anything.
Hovering at one kilometer above Nem’, we had a gorgeous view of a perfect fall day. Blue River stretched upward in front of us; our school was a grey octagon below. Yellow and orange flips swirled around the tallest of the city’s spires. Despite our height, we were still below the tops of Blue River’s buildings. Clouds roiled by, creating patchwork views of the landscape—which included five jet-black NPD cruisers that ringed us like bees around a flower. The atmosphere cannon and shield generators added size and purpose to our “ride.” The tank was a predator among bullies.
Officer Jalusk’s image reappeared, all business. “Our pardon, Lady Ceridian. You are cleared for landing.” The NPD cruisers broke formation and returned to where I’d seen them parked yesterday.
“Oh, they’re letting us through!” Cri said, clapping. I frowned.
“Because assault tanks can go to a school unsupervised?” I said, turning to my sister. “This is a bad plan.”
The ramp extended from the belly of the tank with a whirr. A group of kids had seen us land and were chattering as they gathered at the VCP ramp. I could see Nonch and Mieant in the crowd. Nonch’s midnight-blue segmented length contrasted with the kids’ various colors. Mieant’s olive shirt and pants looked vaguely like he was ready to walk through a jungle. Jenna was there too, except off to one side. Her silver outfit reflected light, and she looked ready for a rave.
“Raystar! Wait,” Mom called. I turned to her, one foot on the ramp, the other on the VCP. Cri was ahead of me and turned as well, frowning quizzically. Mom walked down the ramp, and behind me I heard the kids’ ooohs. Especially the boys.
I blinked and looked at Mom. She had changed before she took us to school. She wore the pure white cape of the Ascendancy draped around her neck with her skintight silver combat suit. Her determined stride made the hilts of the plasma pistols at her hips sway with each step. I saw the boys in the crowd, smitten, and wondered how long it would take for their intelligence to find its way back to their brains.
Mom’s black hair streamed behind her as she sauntered up to me. Her eyes glowed, and she smiled at each of the kids as she approached.
“Hold still,” she said, as she grabbed my head with one hand. She licked a thumb and scrubbed something off of the side of my mouth. She looked at me and gave me a huge hug and wet kiss.
“MMMUAH!”
“MOM! Agh! What are you…”
“Stop squirming,” she muttered to me and herself as she turned my head slightly to wipe lipstick from my cheek. After a critical evaluation, she straightened. “There. Perfect. OK, see you both this evening!” With that, she strode back up the ramp.
I turned, slowly, and trod down the ramp, lost in my horror.
To my additional horror, Jenna was vidding the scene. She held a camera remote in one hand that projected a virtual screen. With swipes and turns of her wrist, she sent an orb-shaped experian drone that dutifully twisted this way and that for the best angle as it maneuvered in the air. My classmates ignored her, as they were in various states of laughter after having witnessed the scene with Mom. My face burned at each finger pointed in my direction, each laugh at my expense. I hurried toward Nonch, Mieant, and Cri.
“There was nothing on your face,” Nonch said, looking to each of us as I approached. “I saw. There was nothing on her face?” His last sentence hung in the air.
The long ramp pulled back into the tank the moment my last foot touched the ground. With hardly a gust of air, the giant assault tank lifted, pivoted in the direction of home, and raced off.
Mieant smiled at me with honest appreciation. “Brilliant,” he said, “Your mom’s outfit was designed to…uh…draw attention.” He shifted awkwardly and shot a glance at Cri. “And your mom...” He wheeled on Jenna, who was directing the drone at him. “Get that away from me!”
“I’m in the school news club!” Jenna fired back. She glared at each of us, but she knew how we’d react when she shoved the experian in our faces.
“You!” I took a step toward her. She pointed the drone at me.
“Do it, Raystar. You’re brave enough when your friends are around.” She took a step back and the experian recorded it all. The crowd of kids began walking toward the playground in smaller groups. The tank was gone, and my prior embarrassment was well documented. Ugh. I couldn’t wait for her stories.
“You were my friend,” I said to her.
“Hardly.” The sneer hung in her voice as she turned to my sister, “Cri, let’s go. Why do you hang out with her? C’mon. I want you to meet Darien. I think we’re, you know.” She crossed her fingers in the international symbol of boyfriend–girlfriend. Mieant choked.
“Jenna,” Cri said, taking a step forward to stand at my side. She pointed at me, then back to herself, “Uh, sisters? And after what you did yesterday?” Her solidarity felt great. Maybe she did like me still.
“Yesterday? I didn’t want Darien hurt,” Jenna huffed. She turned to Mieant.“And you. I don’t get you. Today you’re friends with a Human and a Crynit. It’s like, out of the blue, you leave your real friends behind!”
Mieant considered her and said nothing.
“Jenna, what do you want?” Cri asked. “If it’s nothing, then go.”
“Pfft. Darien says you’re all trouble.” She spun and marched down the ramp, her glass beads clinking as she stomped away from us.
“I am confused,” Nonch said.
“Darien’s using her.” Mieant motioned for us to follow. “I bet he’s been asked by Principal Entarch to stir something up.”
“Whatever,” Cri said. Then she added, “You’re kidding, right?”
“We were approached several times to, ah, help students understand how to behave. You remember Alar? The Elion? Principal Entarch wanted him to feel unwelcome. Very unwelcome,” Mieant said. He caught my gaze, and raised his hands to me. “I was not a part of that, though. But as you see, Alar is not here.”
“One moment,” Nonch interrupted, reaching out and holding the three of us with a blade claw. “My lack of comprehension is troubling. Just now, your mother embarrassed you,” he said, turning to me.
“The school is covered with vid-cameras,” Mieant explained. “Lady Ceridian is Ascendant and Heir to the Glean Gathering. By showing how much she loves Raystar, in front of all of those cameras, she was both protecting Raystar and diminishing the Human threat.”
“Love is rubbing saliva on your child?” Nonch tilted his head and glanced between Mieant and me. Mieant winced and pinched his nose.
“No. She displayed the act of wanting your child, a person you care about, to look good in public. And that particular act is typical with messy children.” Cri snorted and then looked at me with a smirk. “The type that can’t take care of themselves.”
“She made Raystar look like an immature child, so whoever watches the videos would have difficulty believing she is a threat?” Nonch persisted.
“Not ‘immature child,’” I coughed, “but yeah.” Now that he’d brought it up, it was obviously a ruse on Mom’s part. But I took it to the negative. I’d wanted Mom to have done that out of love, out of concern for me. As current and past events were unraveling, it was hard not to suspect that Mom’s show wasn’t for me, but instead for the “duty” she and Dad talked about so much.
“This surprised you?” he asked me.
“Um, I thought it was an irritating-mom thing,” I said, glum that I’d missed what it was really about.
We moved to go. Nonch held us in place. Mieant looked down at his shirt, at the spot where Nonch was holding him. Of the four of us, No
nch was the most formidable. I saw him for a moment from the perspective of Mieant, who arguably was as alpha as any kid could be. Nonch was nearly three meters long, armored and armed. His head was adorned with four black eyes, two orange primary orbs, and mandibles. Nonch was an apex predator, through and through.
“Shells?” I asked, touching his knife-smooth arm blade.
“The question is, what threat does your mother see that we do not?”
29
The ramp from the VCP to the playground was empty. The usual cacophony of children was absent. Preoccupied with Nonch’s question, I didn’t notice the quiet until we were amongst the kids.
“What’s happening?” Cri asked, standing on her toes to see over the crowd. Being Human, I rose only to my classmates’ elbows and mid-backs.
“Find a spot. Students, find a spot and be silent!” a school security guard shouted. The Glean guard towered over the students, and, with two hands, he cradled an assault rifle across his chest; its barrel was down. Because, you know, we kids might giggle, or make a mess, or not do our homework…all sorts of military-grade crimes could come from my fellow pre-rebels. “The Greeting Ceremony will begin shortly!”
Paranoid, I tore my gaze from the overarmed security guard and peered between elbows and backpacks to see if anything else craxy was there. Indeed, an unusually large number of school security guards were peppered throughout the crowd.
A shadow passed over me, and I looked up. The five NPD cruisers we’d encountered when Mom dropped us off hovered at evenly spaced intervals around the perimeter of the school grounds. And as I dropped my gaze, I noticed orange heat shimmering from their plasma cannons. They were armed and hot. None of this was right. This was a bad plan.
“Hey!” I pulled my friends close. “Nova, those cannons are active! We need to leave,” I said, pointing at the cruisers. “C’mon!”
Cri grabbed my arm. “Stop it! Seriously. Oh. Gravity wells! Look over there!” She pointed. Dozens of experian news drones flitted about, all focused on one area of the crowd. I gritted my teeth and shoved her hand away, and she glanced down at me with a frown. “It’s a Global Network News crew over there. Whatever this ceremony is, it’s going to be on GNN!”
