by H. A. Swain
“It’s going to be okay. We’re together now. Everything is going to be okay,” I say over and over like a mantra, willing myself not to panic.
The Shuttle will dock in thirty minutes, Darshan informs me.
“Holy Mercury!” I say aloud. I can’t dock with a half-naked, unconscious Earth girl in the cargo hold. I rummage in the bins for extra flight suits. I put one on, then work up a sweat trying to shimmy the other over Talitha’s floating limbs. She is limp and heavy in her drugged state, but after several minutes, I manage to zip her inside a suit.
“Hey, hey,” I whisper, and hold her cheeks in my hands so we are eye to eye. “Look at me. It’s Uma. I’m here.”
Talitha moans. Her eyes open and dart around. I search her pupils for some flash of recognition. She tries to swallow, but her throat is dry. I grab a drink bag from a storage bin and puncture the side with a straw, then slip the other end between her slack lips. I gently squeeze the bag until the liquid rises to her mouth.
“Come on, come on.” Once a drop hits her tongue, she purses her lips and drinks. A good sign.
“Okay,” I say, relieved. I repeat this action over and over until she turns her head away. She faces me, working her lips, trying to say something.
“What?” I ask. “What do you need?”
Her voice rasps like metal against stone. I can’t make out the words.
“What is it?” I ask again, and lean so close that her lips brush my ear. “Are you hungry? Cold? Too hot? Uncomfortable? In pain?”
She strains and coughs, until finally I hear the whisper of one word. “So … So…” she tries and tries again.
“So … what? What can I do for you?” I scramble to understand and anticipate her needs.
She shakes her head and tries one more time. “Sorry,” she says. “I’m. So. Sorry.”
I hold her close to me. “No,” I whisper as I stroke her head. “You don’t have to be sorry. We’re both here. We’re together. Everything is going to be okay.”
Please return to your seat, Darshan says from my Lenz. The Shuttle will dock in twenty minutes.
I need to get Talitha to a safe place for the docking, so I pull us both through the cargo hold door and into the cabin where we can harness in. This time, my movements are not ignored by the other passengers.
Immediately, Burnell Chen-Ning spots me. “Hey,” he says when I pass him. “What are you doing? Who’s that? Where are you going?”
I ignore him and keep moving forward. Heads turn, eyes peer up at me, MUSCies shrink in their seats as I drag Talitha’s levitating body behind me.
“Is that an Earthling?” Mr. Chen-Ning follows us.
I don’t respond. Don’t stop or turn around. I keep moving past their murmurs and protests to the two empty seats in the front of the Shuttle. I maneuver Talitha’s body down into one of the seats and buckle her in. Then I push myself into the other seat and put on my harness. Out the window, I see the Moon looming larger as we near the MUSC docking site.
Talitha’s color is better. Her breathing is smoother, but her nose runs and she continues to cough.
Mr. Chen-Ning floats up the aisle between us. “Did you sneak on with this, er, um…” He struggles to find the word.
“Human being?” I say.
“Look … Uma…” He tries to appear reasonable. “I’m glad you came to your senses and decided to return, and I understand that interesting things happen on Earth during Sol, believe me. But you can’t just bring a random Earthling back to MUSC with you. This person is not a souvenir. There are protocols. Rules to be followed. Documentation needed. Bottom line: There’s not room for everyone on MUSC.”
“Oh, really?” I snap at him. “And how did you earn your place on the Moon?”
“I was born there,” he says. “I’m a Second Gen.”
“In other words, your grandparents were tough enough to make the trip before you were ever born. And then your parents were lucky enough to be born there, and you were lucky enough to be born there, and Gemini was lucky enough to be born there.”
“My family worked hard. We earned our LWAs—”
“Yeah, well, just because you were born on the Moon doesn’t make you better than Earthlings!” I bark at him. He backs away, wide-eyed and cowed by my audacity. Obviously, he’s unnerved by how unhinged I’ve become, but I don’t care. I’m sick of living under the shadow of Second and Third Gen MUSCies who believe they earned every advantage they were handed.
“Uck,” he says, and swallows hard. “I feel sick.”
“You should,” I say. “Sick of yourself. You personally did nothing to earn your place high above the Earth.”
He goes pale, and his eyes grow heavy as if he can’t take being yelled at by someone like me.
“Yeah, well…” he says, his breathing more labored, “I’m ’lerting the ’thorities there’s a sto’way on board,” he slurs over his shoulder as he floats toward his seat.
“Go right ahead,” I call after him. “And while you’re at it, tell them Uma Jemison isn’t taking any crap anymore!”
Halfway through the cabin, he slumps in midair and hovers. The woman below him gasps. “What’s happening?”
“Did he pass out?” someone else asks.
Suddenly, my anger with Mr. Chen-Ning fades and is replaced by concern. “Is he okay?” I call.
“What did you do to him?” an angry woman seated behind Talitha snaps.
“I didn’t do anything. He followed me up here and was yelling and then he got all sleepy and weird,” I say.
Another guy unbuckles and rises up to help him. “Burnell? Can you hear me?”
Then the woman behind Talitha swoons. She grabs the armrests of her seat and lays her head back. Her eyes grow heavy, and she begins to slur as well. “I don’t feelsogood…” Her eyes flutter, then they close.
I undo my harness and rise up to the ceiling again. Now Burnell and the other man float unconscious near the ceiling, and the others on board have grown bleary-eyed and thick-tongued.
“What’s happening?” I ask. “Are you all okay? Darshan, help!”
How can I be of assistance? Darshan asks.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” I tell him as I float through the cabin, watching as one by one, each person on board seems to power down into a deep sleep. “Everyone is losing consciousness! Help! Help me!”
Please remain seated, is the only advice dumb Darshan has.
I struggle to get Burnell and the other unconscious man buckled into their seats so they will be safe when we land. Then I work my way to the front where Talitha sits. When I get there, she gazes up at me, fully awake now.
“Uma!” she exclaims, and reaches for me.
I dive down on her. She hugs me tight. My legs float straight up in the air. We smother one another with kisses like two puppies.
“I was so worried about you!” I tell her.
“Me too!” she says. “When those drones carried you off—”
“Castor saved me!” I tell her.
“What?”
“But then I thought that he came and got you. I didn’t think you were on the Shuttle, and when I finally found you, you looked half dead.”
“I think I was,” she says, and rubs her head. “I’m all cloudy, and my body’s sore.” She sneezes and wipes her nose. Behind us, throughout the cabin, people cough and sniff. I look down at Talitha, who still seems weak and vulnerable. Are people catching what she’s got? If so, how long do I have before I go down? I don’t want to worry her, so I don’t mention the Shuttle full of unconscious MUSCies. Instead I focus on her.
“What happened in the Palace?” I ask, and harness myself in across the aisle from her. “Did D’Cart do this to you?”
She blinks and shakes her head as if thinking hard, but then she shrugs and says, “I don’t remember.” She sniffles and wipes the arm of her flight suit under her running nose. “I think she was there. Or was it Mundie? Or Zaniah Nashira?”
“You are delirious!” I say. “Zaniah Nashira is dead. Remember? Aurelia told us she died in the Great Tsunami.”
“Right,” Talitha says, looking sad at the thought of everyone she left behind.
“Hey, look what I have!” I hand her the little stuffed dog.
“Quasar!” She hugs it tight to her chest.
“Look.” I point out the window at the docking arm unfolding from the spinning MUSC station. “We’re almost there.”
Please remain in your seat with your harness fastened, Darshan says. The Shuttle will begin docking shortly.
“Wow,” she says quietly, and reaches for my hand. “I never thought I’d really be here.” She looks at me. “What happens now?”
Before I can answer, the SecuriBot wakes up. Its red eyes light up, and it scans me. Then it twists its head and scans Talitha. “Intruder!” it announces, and a loud buzzer goes off. “Intruder. Intruder.”
CASTOR NEVA
WILDLANDS OF ’FITH, EARTH
“CASTOR NEVA?”
I open one eye and squint into a bright light. Aurelia stands over me. The spotlight from her left eye beams into two old restaurant booths pushed together where I lie curled in a ball with Quasar tucked against my side. Just like old times, only now I’m about a foot taller.
“Hey, Aurelia.” I stretch my legs one at a time, then without disturbing Quasar, I climb out of the cramped space. I stand there for a moment, taking in what was once the Café at the End of the Universe in the basement of the Observatory and later, the place where Talitha and I made our home for our first year in AlphaZonia. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” I say.
“We last encountered one another three hundred and fifty-seven days ago,” she tells me.
“Really?” I ask. “Has it been that long?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Sorry.” I cringe, but Aurelia only looks at me and blinks. Then I remember she doesn’t care—357 days is a number to her, like any other. “This is why I like you, Aurelia. You know the exact number of days it’s been since we’ve seen each other, but you don’t assign emotional value to that number like a human would.”
I look around the room for my mom, who collects emotional injustices like seashells, but the booth where she slept is empty. I check the message blinking on my iEye.
Gone foraging for breakfast, Mom says from Talitha’s old device. Be back soon.
Aurelia scans the rest of the room with her light. “Is Talitha with you?”
“No…” I stop because my voice catches. Mom and I tried to find her last night. Tried to intercept the caskets unloaded from the truck onto the Shuttle, but a line of SecuriBots, lights and sirens blazing, chased us off the tarmac. We barely made it to my AutoPod without being apprehended. Then we watched, silently, from a distance while robot arms lifted the anonymous ExploroBots into the belly of the Shuttle.
“Where did she go?” Aurelia asks.
I walk over to the windows at the side of the café. Most of them are boarded up, but a few still have glass. I stare up at the pale blue sky, wondering where my sister is now. “She’s on her way to the Moon,” I finally say.
“That is unexpected information. Did she travel alone?”
“No,” I tell her. “At least she’s with her friend Uma—”
“Uma Jemison,” Aurelia says. “I met her. She was very sad to hear of Zaniah Nashira’s death. Please tell her I was incorrect.”
“Um, yeah, okay, but I don’t think I’ll be seeing her anytime soon.” I turn away from the windows to face Aurelia again. “If my calculations are correct, they should arrive at MUSC soon. Tonight, when the sun goes down, my mother and I would like a viewing—”
“I am sorry,” says Aurelia. “The telescopes will not be available for viewing any longer.”
“Why not?”
“I have been called upon by Zaniah Nashira to launch the Res Extensa rocket.”
I put my hands on my hips as I puzzle through what she’s saying. “Are you okay? You’re not making much sense. Do you want me to check your circuitry?”
Aurelia blinks her blue-lit eyes. “I have run a self-diagnostic test. Everything is in working order.”
“Okay, but, there’s no rocket here. You know that, right? Just telescopes and an old planetarium.”
“Incorrect.”
“Oh, really?” I laugh. “Since when do you have a rocket?”
“That is a difficult question to answer. Do you mean at what date did I begin assembling the Res Extensa or at what date was it completed?”
“How about both.”
“Res Extensa assembly commenced approximately ten years ago. I completed my task twenty-six days ago. Launch will occur in two hours, fourteen minutes, and nine seconds.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, wondering if she’s been hacked or has a virus or just some loose wiring inside her CPU. “And where is this rocket now?”
“I am unauthorized to tell you.”
“Override,” I say.
“Your override privileges have been revoked,” she informs me.
I step toward her. “Who’s been messing with your circuitry?”
“I have,” says a voice from the shadows.
I spin around and see a person backlit in the doorway.
“Who’s that?” I ask, shading my eyes to get a better look.
The person steps forward into Aurelia’s bright spotlight, and I gasp. “D’Cart?” She’s in a pink flight suit with silver stitching and boots up to her knees. “Intruder!” I tell Aurelia.
“Zaniah Nashira is not an intruder,” says Aurelia pleasantly.
“Who the hell is Zaniah Nashira?” I yell.
“That was my name before I became RayNay DeShoppingCart,” D’Cart says as she waltzes toward me. “I built Aurelia many years ago when I returned to Earth from the Moon.” She shudders. “Such a horrible place.”
I have so many questions at that moment, but the first one I blurt out is, “Then why’d you send my sister there?”
Quasar limps to the end of the booth and stands on the bench, at my hip. A low growl comes from his throat as D’Cart positions herself next to Aurelia a few feet from us.
“Aha! Listen to that! We did have the wrong twin. Mundie! You were right.”
Mundie steps through the doorway and walks calmly to her side. I jump, afraid he’ll run at me and tear me apart, but he stays still, barely blinking and unfazed by seeing me.
“I should have noticed it was Talitha right away,” says D’Cart. “I’ve practically watched you two grow up. You’d think I could tell you apart. Even with the same bad haircut.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I lift Quasar from the booth bench and inch closer to the windows—our only chance at escape.
“I was here, you know.” D’Cart motions all around. “I’d come visit, checking on Aurelia’s progress every few days. When you and Talitha arrived, I didn’t have the heart to kick you out like I did all the other Wastelanders who’ve tried to camp out here over the years. You were both so scrappy! Reminded me of me. Then I found your parody Stream, and oh!” She laughs softly. “Well, it was just so funny. Like I told you before, there’s no flattery like imitation. Honestly, I felt protective of you and Talitha, which is why I programmed Aurelia to take care of you. I know it sounds silly, but I wanted to see you thrive. Well…” She pauses and rethinks this. “Until you stole from me.” Her face hardens. “I really did not like that.”
“Yeah, so I noticed,” I say, and take another step toward the boarded-up windows separating the interior of the Observatory from the Wildlands of ’Fith.
“Actually, now that I think about it,” says D’Cart slowly, “you and Talitha trading places is better. I’d like to take you with me, Castor.”
“Where?” I ask. A chill settles over me. I don’t like the direction this is going.
D’Cart cocks her head and looks at me funny, as if I’ve missed something obvious and important. “To MUSC. Mundie and
Aurelia are coming, too. Plus, Talitha will be there. Well, if the virus hasn’t killed her—”
“Virus? What virus?”
D’Cart waves my concern away. “She should be fine. I concocted a little cyber critter to get inside the MUSCies’ heads and mess with the wiring of their neural webs. As soon as I get up there, I’ll take over their minds, like I did his.” She jerks her thumb toward Mundie, who doesn’t flinch.
“Mundie?” I say. “What’s going on? What’s she talking about?”
“He can’t really process your language right now,” says D’Cart. “He’ll only listen to me.”
“How’d you do it?” I inch closer and closer to the bottom right window. If I can keep her talking about herself, I might have a chance to make a run for it.
“Ah,” says D’Cart, eyebrows up. “Now you’re asking interesting questions! Did you know that when I lived on MUSC, I designed the brain-to-brain interface technology that made the MUSC ExploroBot program viable? Valentine Fornax was my mentor, and she took all the credit for my innovations. I never intended for my technology to be used that way. I wanted to help people! I wanted a way for soldiers, like my parents and your father, to have use of their bodies again. But Fornax didn’t listen to me.
“She saw a different use for the technology. A way to further MUSC’s mission, which is her only concern. She rose up the ranks of MUSC all the way to the top, riding on that high horse, and cast me down, back to Earth, when I objected to them using my BBI to turn humans into cyborgs to do the dirty work at MUSC. And when I return, they’ll get what they deserve. The MUSCies will serve us. People like you and me, Castor, we will have our own place to flourish when I take over the survival colony.”
I don’t wait around to learn more. Instead, I bolt left, shoving through the bottom, boarded-up windowpane I jimmied loose years ago. It was our trapdoor, the way in and out of this burrow where we thought we were hidden. Turns out, we were being watched the entire time.
“Stop him,” D’Cart tells Mundie.
I’m slow with Quasar in my arms and struggle to get through the hole now that I’m bigger. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mundie lurch toward us. Quasar growls viciously and launches himself from my arms.
