by H. A. Swain
Talitha says all of this, then she doubles over, racked by a coughing fit. I rush to her side and help her to the white sofa.
Dr. Fornax huffs, but she stops haranguing me. “First, you need to get this Earthling into quarantine.” She jabs a finger toward Talitha, who’s wheezing and exhausted. “I’ll put out an All Call on my Stream, asking anyone conscious to identifty themselves. Next, we need to figure out what pathogen is taking everybody down.”
“Hmph,” Micra sniffs. “Funny how Uma always said a microbe would be the thing that would bring the station down. You sure you didn’t plant it, Uma?”
My mouth drops open, and I can’t speak.
“Stop it!” Dr. Fornax snaps at Micra. “Uma wouldn’t do a thing like that, and you know it.”
Micra shrinks back and pouts with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.
“I already swabbed Talitha and myself,” I say, my face still burning from Micra’s accusation. “I’m isolating the DNA in Curie’s lab and also growing cultures just in case we need more. Once I have the pathogens, I’ll run the code through our database to see what it could be, but the results won’t be ready for hours.”
“Good work,” Dr. Fornax says, and I feel myself blush at her compliment more than I wish I would. “Listen, Uma, although I still have control of the station, everything I can do from here will be on a time delay, so in case we need to move quickly, I’m giving you full security clearance.”
Talitha and I glance at each other. I don’t mention that I already have it through Castor’s blanket override.
“And also—” Fornax says, but Darshan flashes a message on my Lenz.
Call from Kepler.
Not now, I answer, and try to stay focused on the list of things Dr. Fornax is telling me to do.
Answer! Kep thotz to me. Urgent! Project!
Fine! I thotz back, then I command, “Project Kepler,” out loud. His holo beams out from my Lenz to the center of the floor across from Micra and Dr. Fornax.
“There’s something happening on Earth that you should see,” Kepler says. “Turn on RayNay DeShoppingCart’s Stream.”
“What in the—” Dr. Fornax starts to say, but Kepler interrupts her.
“Now! Look!” he insists.
I command the screen behind her desk to blink on. We all wait, breath held, until I access D’Cart’s Stream. Then we see the pointed nose of a white rocket thrust up from a spiraling dome.
“The Observatory!” Talitha cries.
Up and up the rocket rises, like a strange metallic flower, as the thunder of engines fills the air. The building shakes, cracks run down the white walls, fire erupts from the exploding doors and windows, sending a blast that scorches the dry grass and engulfs the trees as the rocket launches into the bright blue sky.
“No!” Talitha screams, and runs toward the holo as if she could stop it.
“And in this historic moment,” D’Cart’s voice narrates the scene as the rocket arcs away in a cloud of destruction. “The first RayNay DeShoppingCart spaceship, Res Extensa, leaves the Earth’s atmosphere!”
“This has been playing on a loop all day,” Kepler tells us. “At first I thought it was a joke, but, now, I don’t know…”
Then D’Cart shows up on her Stream. She’s fresh faced and smiling from the cockpit of the rocket. “Hey, you guys!” she squees. “I’m heading to the Moon, just like I told you I would someday, and I can’t wait for you to join me—”
“Zaniah Nashira!” Dr. Fornax growls.
“Zaniah Nashira?” I yell. “I thought she was dead.”
“Zaniah Nashira!” says Talitha, smacking her own forehead. “That’s who it was.”
“Who the hell is Zaniah Nashira?” Micra shouts.
Everyone talks at once—Kepler, Micra, Talitha, and me, trying to piece together what each of us knows into one coherent picture, until Fornax’s voice, louder than all of us combined, shouts, “Initiate contact with Res Extensa.”
D’Cart’s Stream fades, and the screen behind the desk glimmers. We all stop chattering and stand in a silent circle as we wait. Dr. Fornax and Micra huddle together by the wall, Talitha and I stand by the couch, Kepler is across the room, and then in a pop of light, RayNay DeShoppingCart (or is it Zaniah Nashira?) appears.
“Who is this?” she demands. “Who’s contacting me?”
The screen shot is a close-up of her face, so it’s impossible to tell where she is. Is she really in a spaceship heading toward us, or could she be down on Earth playing some enormous prank?
“This is Valentine Fornax. CEO of the Moon Util—”
“Oh, it’s you.” D’Cart rolls her eyes. “I wondered how long it would take—”
I step forward. “Are you really Zaniah Nashira?”
“Yes,” she says. “You’re that Moonling girl.”
“All these years…” I study her, confused. “I wondered where you were, what your life became after you left MUSC, if we were anything alike. And there you were, right in front of me the whole time, selling foot spas and germ wands on your silly Stream?” I shake my head, disappointed. “I really expected … more.”
“Oh, I’ve done plenty!” D’Cart says with a scowl.
“You destroyed the Observatory!” Talitha shouts.
“Talitha?” D’Cart startles when she sees her. “You made it!”
Talitha fights back tears. “You killed Aurelia!”
“Oh, no,” says D’Cart. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m not a monster. Aurelia is fine. She’s with me. Say hello to Talitha!”
The screen shot switches, and we see Aurelia’s blinking blue-eyed faceplate. “Hello, Talitha,” Aurelia says.
Talitha’s knees buckle with relief. She balances herself against the arm of the sofa. “But how—”
“And look who else is here!” The screen switches again.
“Mundie!” Talitha gasps. He stares at us with dead eyes and dried blood crusted on his beat-up face.
“And I may have a few other surprises for you, but those can wait until I get there!” D’Cart says with a sickening smile.
“I’ve locked into the Res Extensa’s flight trajectory,” Dr. Fornax announces. “Be warned, Zaniah, if you enter MUSC airspace, your ship will be obliterated.”
“Oh, will it?” D’Cart snorts. “And how are you going to do that? MUSC has no real defenses, and we both know it. Especially with you, their fearless leader, down on Earth running after a fake mineral deal I set up.”
Dr. Fornax flinches.
“And if my calculations are correct,” D’Cart continues, “every MUSCie up there is in la-la land by now.”
“You did this?” Fornax roars.
“Duh,” says D’Cart. “I expected Talitha might be awake, but Uma Jemison? That’s very interesting.” She looks at me with a kind of sustained curiosity that makes my skin crawl, but then she shakes her head and shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, though. It’s not like one Moon girl can hold me off.”
“Wanna bet?” Talitha says. She stands up and swings the PEP gun around her body to point it straight at D’Cart’s holo.
“Talitha, no!” I whisper.
But D’Cart only laughs. “Really? One PEP gun? I’m so scared.”
“You should be scared!” Dr. Fornax says. “You know the power of MUSC. You know what we are capable of. When I kicked you out the first time—”
“You didn’t kick me out! I left!”
“No, I let you go!”
“Only after you took credit for the brain-to-brain interface technology I invented!”
“That BBI tech was developed under my tutelage, in my lab!” Fornax sneers. “I had every right—”
“And then you used it in the most hideous way—to make ExploroBots! It was meant to help the people of Earth!”
“It does help the people of Earth!” Fornax yells. “It gives soldiers and their families a second chance. The Wastelanders who fight your stupid Earth wars are expendable resources to you. Just another
piece of trash to throw on the heap.”
Talitha, Micra, Kepler, and I look back and forth from Fornax to D’Cart as they shout at each other.
“Without us, how else will the human species continue?” Dr. Fornax asks. “Once you idiots ruin everything on this hellhole of a planet, those of us on MUSC will keep the human race going. On the Moon. On Mars. And beyond. Without us—”
“Without you, everyone will be better off!” D’Cart shouts back. “When I take over MUSC—and make no mistake, I’m taking it over—I’ll bring up my followers and do away with the horrors of the ExploroBot program, and your people, the ones who perpetrated these crimes against humanity, will be my technoslaves!”
“Oh, my gad.” I turn to Talitha. We inch closer to Kepler’s holo. “They’re like children arguing over toys.”
“Yeah, it’s like they forget the rest of us are real people,” Talitha says.
“Someone should tell them we’re not chess pieces in their stupid game,” Kepler adds.
I glance over at Micra. Even she rolls her eyes as Fornax and D’Cart continue their squabble over who will have universal dominion over extraplanetary colonization.
“I can’t decide which one’s worse,” I admit.
“Dr. Fornax with her half-dead humans,” says Talitha.
“Or D’Cart with her revenge fantasy and legions of yammering consumer-tech-enabled followers,” Kepler adds.
The two of them keep arguing, getting louder and louder, until we’re all startled by the door to Dr. Fornax’s office wheeshing open.
“Hello?” someone calls. “Is anybody there?”
CASTOR NEVA
RES EXTENSA SPACESHIP
MY HEART BUOYS in my chest when I hear Talitha’s voice through my headset. When I catch a glimpse of her on the split screen in front of D’Cart, I can hardly breathe. She looks terrible. Ashy skin, cracked lips, red-rimmed eyes, and raw skin beneath her nose. D’Cart’s virus has ravaged her, but at least she’s still alive. I try to maneuver myself into D’Cart’s tight-framed shot so Talitha can see me and know that I’m okay, too, but D’Cart’s PEST buzzes just beyond her nose, so nothing behind her is visible to her viewers. I try yelling, but my voice only reverberates inside my helmet. Literally nobody can hear me scream.
So I’m stuck. Sitting helplessly watching and listening as two megalomaniacs argue over the fate of humanity. And what’s new? Haven’t the little people—the poor, the displaced, and the powerless—always been strapped in for the ride while the powerful jockey for control? My mother says there was a time when people stood up to authority and fought for what was right. They called themselves the Resistance. But I don’t believe her. My mother makes stuff up.
“I should have never let you on MUSC in the first place,” Fornax tells D’Cart. “Now we test for social attachment before we take scholarship kids so we don’t end up with sociopaths like you!”
“You’re the sociopath, controlling everybody’s lives,” D’Cart shoots back. “Dictating what they wear, when they eat, what they can watch and listen to, and deciding everybody’s job for the rest of their lives!”
“So we can stay on task and get things done!” cries Fornax. “Not like you Earthlings with your constant distractions and endless consumption.”
“Our desire for more is what makes us human!”
“More what?” Fornax bellows. “Earthlings have produced nothing of value in nearly a century.”
“Value? You want to talk about value! I own an entire city and have millions of followers all over the world who worship me and my products!”
I tune them out and stare at the receding Earth. When I was a kid, I spent hours scavenging for equipment to build myself a rocket so Talitha and I could escape. I designed systems. Analyzed trajectories. Built prototypes and dreamed of bigger things. I scoured the MUSC Dump for something I could use as fuel.
When I met Aurelia, I imagined she would be with me and Talitha when we finally made it off the Earth. But not like this. Never like this. Listening to D’Cart and Fornax bicker is enough to make me want to deep-space myself so that I can join my father and the other discarded ExploroBots who litter the universe on their endless ride to nowhere.
“I don’t have to listen to this!” D’Cart snarls once she’s had enough of Dr. Fornax’s vitriol. “You’re done, Fornax. And soon MUSC will be mine.” She cuts the connection. The screen in front of her goes blank and, with it, my only link to my sister.
“Can you believe that woman?” D’Cart fumes, as petulant as a child. “She’s a thief and a liar and an egomaniac and—”
“Takes one to know one,” I mutter.
“What did you say?” She clicks on my mic.
Slowly and carefully, I repeat, “Takes. One. To. Know. One.”
D’Cart whips around in her seat so she can look me in the eye. “Your attitude better change if you want me to save your sister when we get to MUSC, young man. I can easily obliterate her along with everybody else up there.”
“Not if she obliterates you first!” I shoot back.
“Yeah, with what?” D’Cart sniffs. “Her one puny pulsed energy projectile gun?” she says in a stupid, baby voice. “MUSCies are a bunch of pacifist wimps who thought Earthlings were too stupid to ever reach them. PEP guns don’t kill, they just disable for a time. They’re basically useless.”
“It’ll knock you on your ass,” I say.
“Actually,” she says with a smirk, “I have reflective tech woven into my space suit. Clever, huh? Whatever they sling at me will ricochet right back. I’m rubber, they’re glue, bounces off me and sticks on you know who!” She cracks herself up.
My heart sinks. I know she’s right. No matter how smart and capable Uma and Talitha are, they’re no match for D’Cart. She’s been planning her revenge for years and has every detail covered. And I’m no use either. Harnessed into this seat, surrounded by mutant-zombie Mundie on one side and Aurelia, who will only listen to the madwoman driving this ship, on the other, I have no way of stopping her. But I refuse to give D’Cart the satisfaction of knowing that, so I say, “Never underestimate the ingenuity of a Wastelander.”
She holds my gaze for a moment, then without a word, she turns away.
“Aurelia,” she says, “how long until we dock on MUSC?”
“Three hours, thirty-two minutes, and twenty-nine seconds,” Aurelia answers.
“There’s no way they can mount a defense in that time,” D’Cart assures herself. “They can’t stop me from docking, and once I’m on board, that station is mine.”
TALITHA NEVA
MOON UTILITARIAN SURVIVAL COLONY
“RANDAZZA!” UMA CRIES, and runs for an elderly Earth woman who stands in Dr. Fornax’s office doorway. The woman catches Uma in a strong hug.
“Thank gad, it’s you, starshine!” She kisses the top of Uma’s head. “I thought I was the only grown person alive in this place. What in the name of Jupiter is going on?”
“Is anyone else awake?” Uma asks.
“Just the babies in the nurseries and the under fives,” the Earthling says. “I’ve checked on all of them. The NanniBots are doing fine, but their human caretakers are all passed out cold like everybody else.”
I sneeze loudly, breaking the quiet.
“Good gad, child, you’re sick as a dog.” Randazza steps toward me.
“Don’t!” I cry, and jump away.
“We think she’s infected with something,” Uma says.
“Nonsense! You’ve just got a little Earth cold.” Randazza presses her cool palm against my forehead. Her touch calms me for a moment. “You’re burning up. All you need is a nice cup of tea and some rest.”
Both Uma and I wait for Randazza to topple over, but nothing happens. She stays upright, blinking at us like we’re crazy.
“Whatever’s taking everybody down must be airborne,” Uma says.
“Not possible,” says Dr. Fornax. “We have the finest air filtration system ever built.
Pathogens can’t—”
“And it only affects people with an implant,” I say. Everyone turns to stare at me.
“You’re right,” says Uma, as if something’s dawning on her for the first time. “The only people who haven’t been affected are me and now Randazza.”
“Or the babies and the young ones,” Randazza adds.
“Can’t be,” says Dr. Fornax, almost to herself. “What Earth pathogen could infiltrate our air system or cross the blood-brain barrier to disrupt the implants? You’ve only been up there for a few hours. Nothing moves that fast!”
“We’ll know what it is for sure when the sequencing is done,” says Uma.
“You don’t have that long to wait,” Dr. Fornax says. “The Res Extensa will dock in less than three hours. You need to secure the station. Now.”
“Don’t you have some kind of shield or automated blasters to protect you from invasion?” I ask.
“This isn’t an old sci-fi movie!” Dr. Fornax says. “Up until ten minutes ago, we thought nobody from Earth could get to us. There hasn’t been a rocket built down there in over a hundred years!”
“Could you use the ExploroBots?” Micra asks. “Line them up around the perimeter of the station as protection?”
“And what?” I ask, horrified. “Let the Res Extensa plow into them?”
“Yeah,” says Micra like I’m stupid. “It’ll slow her down and maybe deflect her from the docking arm to save everybody else on board the station.”
“No!” Uma jumps up, hands out. “We can’t put ExploroBots in harm’s way.”
“Now you sound just like that nut job Zaniah Nashira!” Dr. Fornax says. “Yammering on about the humanity of the ExploroBots. You know she’s the one who—”
“I never liked the ExploroBot project!” Uma shouts. “The way you use those people is wrong.”
“They’re not people any longer,” Dr. Fornax insists.
“Yes they are!” Uma and I both say at the same time.
