by Joe Vasicek
“She wants to know: did you ever think much about the girl you would marry?”
“Some,” Jeremiah answered. “To be honest, though, I didn’t think I’d find her until I found a place to settle down first.”
“What did you think she would be like?”
He paused. “I don’t know. I never really had any particular preference. I guess I always figured that when the time came, I would just know.”
Noemi listened with rapt attention as Mariya translated. She turned to him and replied.
“Do you know now?”
He stopped and took both of Noemi’s hands in his own. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked up at him in a way that made him yearn to take her in a tender embrace.
“Of course,” he whispered. He put his arms around her and pulled her gently close. As he leaned down to kiss her, she closed her eyes and lifted a hand to his cheek. The closeness they shared in that moment was stronger than words.
At length, she pulled back and turned to Mariya, her face beaming as she spoke.
“Do you want to stay here with us?” Mariya asked for her.
“Want stay?” Noemi said aloud, watching him intently.
Jeremiah took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe if I got a job as an in-system hauler—”
“Are you sure about that?” said Mariya. “Most of the freighters are rented out by the local mining companies—you’d have to sell your ship just to afford one.”
That’s what I was afraid of, he thought to himself. Upgrading the Ariadne wasn’t an option—even if he could afford the massive sublight engines he’d need for the long hauls, he didn’t have enough connections to get very far as an independent contractor. The Ariadne had belonged to his father, and his father’s father before that. Selling it instead of passing it on to the next generation would mean breaking away from a time-honored Outworld tradition. But if Alpha Oriana was truly becoming part of the Gaian Empire, then he was already abandoning the Outworlds by staying.
“Want stay?” Noemi asked again, then turned to Mariya to clarify.
“She says it’s not Oriana Station that she cares about, but her people,” Mariya translated. “Even if you both leave after the baby is born, would you eventually settle down in a community of Deltans like us?”
He glanced at Noemi, who eagerly awaited his answer. The way the starlight played across her face made him think of the time on the Ariadne when she’d asked him to show her his birth star. Her eyes shone with the same persistence.
“If that’s what you want, then of course I would.”
Noemi began to speak very quickly, but as she spoke, Mariya’s expression slowly fell. They talked with each other for a while, and from the tone of voice the discussion soon became heated.
“What’s the matter?” Jeremiah asked.
“I’m sorry,” said Mariya. “You must forgive her—she’s never been beyond Megiddo Station before, so of course she’s rather sheltered.”
“Sheltered? How?”
Noemi spoke again, this time to Mariya and not to him. Their argument soon resumed, even more heated than before.
“Girls, please—what’s going on?”
Mariya looked at him for a moment, then sighed and shook her head. At the same time, Noemi reached under her shirt and pulled out the cross, pointing to it as she gave him a pleading look.
“She wants to know if you’d be willing to convert,” said Mariya. “I’m sorry—she’s very naive.”
“No, that’s all right,” said Jeremiah. “I’m not offended.”
“What’s your religion?”
He thought back to the pendant his own mother had given him: the green leaf and rocket ship, sacred symbols of New Earth. Unlike Noemi, though, he didn’t wear it around his neck—it was stowed on board the Ariadne, buried inside a compartment he rarely opened. Noemi had pulled it out once, but after a couple of days he’d put it back.
“I’m not really much of a believer,” he said. It reminds me too much of home.
Mariya frowned. “You’re an atheist, then?”
“Well, no, it’s not that. It’s just, religion isn’t a huge part of my life right now.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding. “You realize that Noemi is very devout, though?”
“Yes.”
“Are you interested in learning more?
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you want to know just to know, or do you want to learn in order to convert?” She paused, her expression more serious than he’d ever seen. “If you do want to convert, it won’t be easy. A lot of people hate us because of our beliefs, especially here at Alpha Oriana.”
“I don’t know,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “What will happen if I don’t?”
Mariya glanced over at Noemi before turning back to him. “I don’t think she would ever tell you, but it would break her heart.”
Jeremiah took a deep breath and nodded. She’ll just want to possess you, Samson’s words came to his mind. You shouldn’t let yourself get tied down.
But wasn’t that what his father had done when he’d settled at Edenia? Growing up, he’d always seemed aloof in matters of faith and religion. It was quite possible that Jeremiah’s mother had made a similar request.
He shrugged. “If it’s for her, then sure. What do you guys believe?”
Mariya hesitated, but Noemi went on undaunted. She started waving excitedly with her hands, as if to explain everything all at once. When Mariya refused to translate, though, her excitement quickly turned to frustration and anger. In just a few moments, the two girls fell into an argument.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Jeremiah, stepping between them. “What’s going on? Why all the fighting.”
“She just—I don’t know. It’s kind of a difficult subject.”
“Why? What’s the matter?”
“I’d rather not talk about it right now. Maybe sometime later?”
“Sure,” said Jeremiah. “That’s fine. We’ll just—I guess we’ll talk about it later.”
Noemi sighed, but he put an arm around her, hopefully making it better. It was clear that there was more she wanted to tell him, but if Mariya wasn’t willing to translate, there was nothing they could do about it.
* * * * *
The narrow station corridors seemed cramped and dreary after the visit to the starlit gardens. They passed an elderly couple on their way to the elevator, smiling in silent greeting. Noemi squeezed Jeremiah’s hand, making the place feel a little warmer.
When the door slid open, though, the sound of shouting and yelling met their ears. Mariya frowned and stepped in first, Jeremiah and Noemi following at a distance behind. In the front room, Jakob sat on the threadbare couch with his head in his hands, while his wife and half a dozen other relatives argued back and forth in their strange sounding language.
Jeremiah glanced at Noemi for some clue as to what was going on. From the look on her face, it didn’t seem good. He turned to Mariya, but she was already by her father’s side, hand on his shoulder as she tried to console him.
“Bad,” said Noemi. “Jakob—”
Mariya’s eyes widened, and her face paled. Behind her, Opa Jirgis threw his hands in the air and stormed out of the room, followed closely by his wife.
“What’s going on?” Jeremiah asked as the commotion started to die down.
“Bad news,” said Mariya. “Very bad news.”
“What?”
“I’ve lost my job,” Jakob interjected. He clenched his fists. “Those dirty racist Alphans!”
“You lost your job?”
“Not just him,” Mariya explained. “The Imperials are shutting down half of the dockyard facilities, and laying off most of the workers.”
“Starting with the Deltans,” her father added. “At least the others get to work to the end of the quarter.”
Jeremiah frowned. “But why? I thought Oriana Station was a major trading hub.”
“The Imperial author
ities are changing everything. They’re gutting the manufacturing sector and redirecting everything to mining. In a few months, just watch: they’ll raise taxes on all the outworlders who come through here, until this place is nothing but a ghost station.”
A terrible sinking feeling grew in Jeremiah’s gut. It made sense, in a perverse sort of way: if the Imperials wanted to align Alpha Oriana with the Coreward Stars, they’d want to cut out as much competition as they could, giving the Imperial trading companies a monopoly over the local markets. Since the new trade routes would all lead back to the Empire, Oriana Station’s manufacturing center was superfluous and perhaps even counterproductive. In only a standard year or two, the entire system would go from a major Outworld hub to a backwater frontier colony.
“It’s okay,” Mariya said, trying in vain to console her father. “I’m sure you can find other work—right?”
Her father snorted in disgust. “Only if the Alphans allow it. My guess is that they’ll drive us all out the first chance they get.”
Jeremiah looked to Noemi, whose face had started to pale. She patted her stomach as if afraid for their baby, and Jeremiah put his hand around her waist.
I’d hate to see you get stuck here, Samson’s words echoed in his mind. As he led Noemi away to the closet that served as their bedroom, he wondered if it was already too late.
Chapter 9
When Jeremiah returned to the apartment after another long week of grueling work, he found the entire family gathered in the living room for a conference. Noemi was there too, watching with Mariya along the wall. He stepped carefully around the edge of the room and washed up quickly, knowing that they’d expect him to join them as soon as he could.
“We have no choice,” Jakob said as he came back into the room. “We can’t stay here with these Alphans any longer.” A moment later, Jakob reverted back into Deltan, words flying like bullets at the tightly-packed crowd.
“What’s he saying?” Jeremiah asked, leaning in toward Mariya. She paused for a second before answering.
“He says that we should strike out and find a different place to settle, perhaps in the New Pleiades. But Opa says we can’t all afford the transport, and besides, it’s better for us to stay together.”
“Are the rest of them staying?” Jeremiah looked to Opa Jirgis, the patriarch of the family. The old man sat back in the ancient couch with his eyes half closed, his forehead creased in serious thought.
“They’re planning to emigrate for the Coreward Stars,” said Mariya. “Father doesn’t want to go, though.”
“Of course not. He’s an outworlder at heart.”
“But he doesn’t have his ship anymore—my older brothers already left with it,” she explained. “Besides, I don’t want to leave Oriana Station. I like it here.”
Jeremiah sighed and clenched his fists in frustration. The waste treatment job wasn’t working out well for him—even with only Noemi to support, he was fast running out of resources. With his wife, daughter, and extended family, Jakob would never be able to live on that kind of work. Besides, the foreman had been right: it was enough to suck the life out of a man.
We have to go back to the Outworlds, he realized. There’s no other way.
The argument at the center of the room shifted, and the other family members started to chime in. Any semblance of order completely fell apart, and the meeting soon turned into a shouting match.
“Then go, for all I care!” Jakob yelled, walking past them. Mariya tried to stop him, but he shrugged her off and stormed out of the room.
“What’s going on now?” Jeremiah asked. Noemi came over and leaned against him, covering her ears for the noise. He put an arm around her to shield her.
“I don’t know,” said Mariya, her cheeks pale. “It’s bad—very bad. I don’t think we’ll be able to stay together.”
“And your father? What does he want to do?”
She took a deep breath, while one by one the rest of the family also left the room.
“He wants to take us back to the Outworlds, but the others aren’t willing to help him. They don’t have any money to spare, and no one wants to change their plans.”
“If you’re leaving, we can go with you,” said Jeremiah. “Noemi and I can’t raise a family in this place—not with the way the Imperials are changing everything. And we can’t go by ourselves, especially with the pregnancy. Without your help, I have no way to talk with her.”
“But how are we supposed to leave?” Mariya asked. “We aren’t rich—we can barely afford a transport, much less our own starship.”
Samson, Jeremiah realized. Samson has money. Or at least, his girl did—wherever she was.
“I have an idea,” he told her. “It’s a long shot, but it’s better than nothing.”
“What?”
He hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room. These were poor people, but they were nothing if not fiercely self-sufficient. He doubted Mariya’s father would want him to ask anyone for favors—better to handle things on his own.
“I’d rather not discuss it now. Can you meet me out in the corridor in about an hour?”
“Sure,” said Mariya. “Where are we going?”
“To look up a friend of a friend,” he said. Something told him that it wasn’t a good idea to go alone.
* * * * *
The residential district of Oriana Station’s first quadrant was much more spacious than the immigrant apartments in the Deltan quarter. Verdant plants and decorative flowers hung from the awnings between doors, while the skylights along the vaulted ceiling offered a stunning view of the station’s twin wheels. Mariya seemed a little tense in such an upscale place, though. She tightened her grip on Jeremiah’s arm and walked at a quick pace, even though the thoroughfare was relatively empty. Overhead, a soundless magnetic train passed high above them.
“Thirty-five blue,” he said, stopping at a glass elevator that ran up the outside of the wall. “This should be it.” He palmed open the door and let Mariya in.
The elevator crawled at a leisurely pace up the canyon-like gap. Jeremiah smoothed out the front of his vest and checked his reflection as the elevator ascended. He wore a quaint handmade vest from Oma Salome, but it still looked more formal than most of his other clothes. Perhaps that was why Mariya seemed so nervous—she looked just as out of place as he did.
The floors and walls of the hallway were lined with polished basalt, while the paneled ceiling glowed with mellow light. They walked quickly arm and arm, past a small group of well-dressed men playing cards in a corner alcove. The heady scent of cigar smoke followed them down the corridor long after they’d passed.
“This is it,” he said, finally stopping in front of a door. Instead of metal, the face was made of wood, the long lines of grain cutting vertically down the center. He hit the door chime and stood with Mariya in front of it, rocking nervously on his feet.
They waited for nearly ten seconds before the door slid soundlessly open. A girl with blue-black hair stood on the other side, dressed in a tight smart-skirt and a black, form-fitting turtleneck. Even though her clothing covered just about everything except for her legs, her figure was so stunning that Jeremiah had a hard time keeping his thoughts straight.
“Hello,” he said, nodding to her in greeting. “My name is Jeremiah, and this is my friend Mariya. Are you Héloise?”
The girl looked him over from head to toe, as if sizing him up. From the supremely bored look on her face, she didn’t seem to like what she saw.
“Yes, I’m Héloise,” she said. “Please, come in.”
She led them into a spacious living room with dark leather couches on a light hardwood floor. The walls were a cream color, with black trim and almost a dozen wall-screens that cycled through breathtaking images of distant galaxies and nebulae. On the glass table in the center of the room, a single magnificent rose sat in a tall, black vase, its lush petals in full bloom. The brilliant colors of the flower contrasted sharply with th
e rest of the decor.
“Have a seat,” she said. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks,” said Jeremiah, sitting down with Mariya on the main couch. Héloise sat back in the opposite chair, crossing her long, slender legs. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a modular extension of her wrist console.
“Do you smoke?” she asked.
“No, thanks,” said Jeremiah.
“Mind if I do?”
The question was moot, seeing as she already was. However, he shook his head and smiled politely.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments as Héloise continued to examine him. Despite her disdainful attitude, there was something strangely inviting about her gaze, so that he didn’t know whether she was intrigued by him or whether she thought he was trash. He tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind, so he waited for her to break the silence.
“You’re one of Samson’s friends,” she said, letting out a puff of smoke. “Is this a friend of yours?”
“Yes,” said Jeremiah, turning to Mariya. “Well, more accurately, this is Mariya, a friend of my wife.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Mariya. She smiled and gave Héloise a nervous wave. From the half-bored, half-contemptuous look on their host’s face, it was clear that she wasn’t impressed.
“Only a friend?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Why isn’t your wife with you instead?”
“She, ah, wasn’t feeling very well,” said Jeremiah, fishing for an answer. “She’s actually twelve weeks pregnant.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Héloise took another puff, and then hit a button to extend an ashtray from the armrest of her chair. She casually ground out her half-smoked cigarette and retracted the ashtray back into its compartment.
“Did you come here looking for Samson, or did you want to see me?”
“Both, actually,” said Jeremiah. “Since you and Samson are, well, partners, it would be best to speak with both of you together. Seeing as he’s gone, however—”
