Star Wanderers: The Jeremiah Chronicles (Omnibus I-IV)

by Joe Vasicek

  He reached up and pulled the second dream monitor down from the ceiling compartment. After unfolding the second chair and sitting down, he slipped it over his head and inserted the neural jacks into the socket at the base of his neck. As the machine hummed to life, he settled back into the chair with his hands in his lap—

  —and then he was in a wide open meadow, with a blue sky overhead and thick green grass that came nearly up to his waist.

  “Noemi?” he shouted, peering around the verdant landscape of the simulation. He found her sitting on a cluster of boulders about a hundred meters away, leaning back with her feet dangling over the edge. She wore a white, flowing dress with a light blue sash around her waist and a garland of flowers across her brow. Her stomach was swollen several times larger than in real life, indicating just how much she was looking forward to the baby.

  “Noemi,” he said, walking up to her. She smiled radiantly at him, and for a moment he forgot all about Ebitha City and her refusal of the medibot. But then, she patted her pregnant belly, reminding him.

  “We can’t go on like this,” he said, running his fingers through her hair.

  She gazed up at him with her deep green eyes, but it was clear that she didn’t understand what he was talking about. Sighing, he held out his hand and concentrated on the image of the medibot from his memory. A short while later, it hovered above his outstretched fingers, its spidery arms extended.

  Noemi frowned and shook her head. “No,” she said, waving her hand. “No need—no want.” The medibot vanished like a puff of smoke in the breeze.

  “Ratom?” Jeremiah asked. “You need something. How else am I supposed to take care of you?”

  Noemi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. For a brief moment, the meadow around them changed to the robotics shop on the surface of New Ebitha, the deep red sunlight shining through the glass dome overhead. Jeremiah turned his head and saw himself and Noemi, standing next to the salesman. The medibot hovered in the air between them and extended its three spindly arms, and the image of Noemi shrieked and pushed it away, much as she had in real life. A bolt of fear shot through him—fear of having his body invaded by insects, or by spiders. Moments later, the image disappeared, and they were back in the grassy meadow with the open blue sky all around them.

  Whoa, Jeremiah thought to himself. The user-generated image had looked so real, and yet Noemi didn’t even have to go into creative mode to build it. The fear he’d felt had been hers—she’d conveyed it directly to him through the simulation.

  “You angry?” Noemi asked, giving him an apologetic look. He sighed and shook his head, coming back to the present.

  “No,” he said. “I’m not angry. I’m just worried.”

  “Wur-eed?”

  “Yes. Afraid.”

  She laughed innocently, smiling at him with her eyes as she dangled her legs over the edge of the rock. “Afraid? Ratom?”

  Why?

  He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being stupid. You know how to take care of yourself, right? Shen vitis rogor vard, uh—vard magari, ki?”

  “Ki, ki,” she said. “Jerem-ahra no afraid—I be strong.”

  “But what if there’s a problem? What if I can’t help you?”

  “Help no far. See doctor here, see doctor there, if need can go. Find home soon, yes?”

  He shook his head and paced the ground in front of her. “Home?” he muttered. “Soon—yes, soon.”

  She leaned forward and slipped down from her perch on the boulder, one hand under her belly for support. He helped her down, and she stepped a short distance away before turning and looking him in the eye.

  “No … no afraid,” she said, struggling for words. “Look—home.”

  A stiff breeze blew between them, tossing her hair, and the landscape shifted. Instead of a meadow, they now sat at the base of a large crater, with shrubs growing all along the edges. Behind them, a forest of giant redwood trees loomed like ancient sentinels, silent witnesses to the passage of generations and ages. A flood of barely suppressed emotion flooded through him—hers as well as his own.

  “Home,” he said, closing his eyes and raising his hand. He tried very hard to focus on an image of Noemi’s birthplace, but the memories were hard to catch.

  “Home?” she asked, and with that one word the simulation shifted to an old, musty corridor packed to the walls with people. She took his hand and led him past a long row of doors, each with a smoldering stick of incense and an icon of some saint on the lintel. Together, they walked over to a wide observation window that ran along the other side.

  Jeremiah recognized the place at once: Megiddo Station, the main settlement at the Delta Oriana system where they had met. Though Noemi was smiling, a residue of sadness accentuated the mold in the ventilation ducts and the cracks in the walls and floor. Even though she had grown up here, she would never be able to go back.

  Just like him.

  “Home,” she said again, pointing out the window at the night side of a virgin terrestrial world. As he watched, the yellow sun crept up over the horizon, shining through the upper atmosphere in rich hues of red and orange. He squinted as the twilight crescent gave way to the brilliant light of day. Below, giant snow capped mountains gave way to rolling foothills and rich green plains. Long blue tendrils of meandering rivers stretched hundreds of kilometers to the ocean. Speckled clouds covered the verdant landscape, catching his breath with their beauty. For a brief moment he felt as if he’d stepped out of the simulation and into a dreamlike reality.

  “Home?” Noemi asked again, looking up at him expectantly.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “One can only hope.”

  “Hope,” she repeated, patting her belly. From the potent mix of emotions that filled the simulation, it was clear that she knew the meaning of the word.

  * * * * *

  As Noemi slept gently in his arms, Jeremiah lay back, trying in vain to fall asleep. He shifted, rocking the hammock a little, but his thoughts still kept him awake.

  It was clear that they couldn’t go on like this forever. They’d both made some progress in learning each others’ language, but it wasn’t enough, and he didn’t know how to teach himself any more. Deltan was one of the more obscure Outworld dialects, and the auto-translate database was only of limited help. When it had just been the two of them, it hadn’t been much of a problem, but now with a baby on the way, they were going to have to find a better way to communicate.

  He thought on the voyage they had ahead of them. Gamma Oriana was only four light-years away, but it would take at least twenty standard days to cross that distance, pushing the Ariadne to the limit. They would have to be fast, though, if they were to rendezvous with the Hope of Oriana before it departed for Zeta Oriana. Their Deltan friends would help Noemi through the final stages of her pregnancy and teach him some more of her language. Until then, it was just the two of them.

  Noemi moaned and shifted beside him. Without thinking, Jeremiah stroked her back until she sighed and settled down again, nestling her head on his chest. Language barrier or not, there was a closeness they shared that didn’t require words—an understanding that came through intimacy alone. In the vast, lonely void between stars, the Ariadne became an island in the midst of a starry sea, where all of the petty ugliness of human society seemed distant and far removed. Without any eyes to judge them, was it any wonder that they had come to share such a bond? And yet, with the baby on the way, even that wasn’t going to be enough.

  Noemi’s chest rose and fell against his own, calming his troubled thoughts somewhat. He stroked her back again and ran his other hand across her stomach. When he thought of the changes that would soon come into their lives, he felt as if they were jumping into uncharted space, with no reliable way to triangulate their position. Despite her quiet confidence that everything would be all right, he wasn’t quite so sure.

  Chapter 12

  Jeremiah closed his eyes as the Ariadne made the final jump to
the Gamma Oriana system. As the ship passed through jumpspace, a mildly disorienting wave of nausea swept over him. For a moment, he felt as if the universe were collapsing on a point at the center of his chest. He gripped the armrests of his chair and squeezed, but just as the pressure reached a breaking point, his stomach flipped and the feeling passed.

  He opened his eyes and squinted to avoid staring directly into the orange light of Gamma Oriana, a K-class star. Off to starboard, a yellow crescent gas giant shone bright in the light of its sun, framed by a magnificent set of rings. According to the Gaian Imperial catalog, the planet was Chronos, and the rings were shepherded by three major moons, one large enough to support an atmosphere of methane and carbon dioxide. Known to the locals as B’tum, it was home to one of the most thriving settlements in the Oriana star cluster.

  Jeremiah had never been to the surface, but as a young boy, he’d learned all about the terraforming project started hundreds of years ago by a band of New Earthers from Gaia Nova. It reminded him of his birth world at Edenia, where a similar project had failed. To think that this one might succeed and create a new Earth—not just a botanical garden, but an entire world of lush, green life—it almost made him want to settle down and give up the starfaring life forever. Of course, the world would never blossom in his lifetime, though perhaps one of his sons would live to see it.

  One of his sons—the thought was truly staggering.

  As he checked the scanners to triangulate his position relative to the planet’s navigational beacons, Noemi stepped in from the cabin. With one hand on her belly, she stared out the window at the planetary vista outside.

  “Attention, starfarer vessel. This is Chronos port authority,” came a scratchy voice over the radio. “Your signal identifies you as the light freighter Ariadne, arriving from Beta Oriana. Is this correct?”

  “Affirmative, port authority,” said Jeremiah, leaning into the microphone. “We’re looking for the Hope of Oriana. Have they arrived yet?”

  Pause. He stared at the crescent world outside the forward window, while Noemi put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Copy, Ariadne,” came the voice. “We have a ship by that name docked at the L2 station not far from your current position. Would you like us to direct you there?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “Copy. Stand by while we calculate your flight plan.”

  Jeremiah sighed in relief and leaned back in his chair, waiting for the port authority to transmit the orbital flight plan. Next to him, Noemi pointed out the window.

  “Friends?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “We’re going to see our friends soon.”

  Her eyes lit up. “See friends good.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m looking forward to it too.”

  * * * * *

  The Hope of Oriana was an old colony ship on the final voyage of a long and tired career. Her durasteel hull was darkened from long exposure to cosmic radiation and pocked from countless micro-meteorite impacts. The sublight engines and half-dome reactors took up most of the ship’s massive bulk, leaving barely enough living space for the two hundred some-odd colonists bound for the new world. As Jeremiah brought the Ariadne up to dock with the aging ship, he caught glimpses of the newly refurbished interior through the long rows of portholes. It looked comfortable enough, but crowded—every room was occupied.

  Noemi waited eagerly by the airlock as they docked, beaming with excitement. He shuffled sideways past her and palmed the door open, leading the way through.

  “Noemi!”

  Jeremiah stepped aside as a dark-haired girl about Noemi’s age ran past him and gave her half a dozen kisses on the cheek.

  “It’s good to see you, Mariya.”

  “You too,” she said, breaking away from Noemi to greet him with a hug. Moments later, the two girls were chatting in Deltan as eagerly as if it had been years instead of weeks since they’d last seen each other.

  Jeremiah turned to Mariya’s father, who waited for them by the wall. A tall, middle-aged man with sharp features and a clean-shaven face, he nodded as he extended his hand.

  “Glad to see you made it.”

  “Thanks, Jakob,” said Jeremiah, giving him a handshake that soon turned into a shoulder hug. “It’s good to see you too.”

  “Had a good trade run?”

  “Yeah, the Betan market for electronics is still as hot as ever. You wouldn’t happen to know the local price of fish, would you?”

  Jakob shook his head and smiled. “Sorry, friend—it’s been years since I gave up the starfaring life. But seeing you sure brings back memories.”

  “Quite right—quite right!” came a booming voice from out in the corridor. A stout old man with a white beard and a sharp gray uniform ducked his head through the hatchway.

  “Captain Elijah?” said Jeremiah, frowning in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “You didn’t think I’d let you both onto my ship without coming down to welcome you aboard, did you?” the captain said, slapping him heartily on the back. “I know you’re anxious to get to B’tum Station and unload your cargo, but before you do, I thought I’d come down and give you a quick tour of the ship.”

  Jeremiah glanced at Noemi and Mariya, who nodded. “Sure,” he said. “That would be great.” If the Hope of Oriana was going to be their home for the next few months, why not?

  “Of course, of course,” said Elijah. “Right this way.”

  He ducked back through the hatchway and set off down the corridor at a brisk pace, forcing the rest of them to hustle. Jakob kept to the rear, while Mariya took Noemi’s arm and walked past Jeremiah, shooting him a quick smile.

  “The Hope of Oriana was originally built as an old Imperial freighter,” Captain Elijah explained, “though before she was decommissioned and sold, she was operating as a third class passenger liner in the frontier stars. When she came to us, we refurbished her to serve as a private colony ship.”

  They passed a small group of crew members in the hallway, three young men and one young woman, all wearing identical navy-blue jumpsuits. Space was tight, so they had to turn sideways to get past each other. Jeremiah grabbed a handhold on the wall and noticed that the floors were slightly wider than the ceiling. It was an older design, more common in the stars closer to the Imperial core.

  “Normally, we try to keep the crew and passengers from getting too cozy,” said the captain. “Since this is the Hope’s final voyage, though, the separation isn’t too rigorously enforced. I’ve set up a biweekly post rotation to give the chartered crew a chance to mingle a bit, as well as give the colonists some training in case it becomes necessary for them to fill in.”

  “I just came off of communications,” Mariya interjected. “It was fun!”

  Jeremiah nodded. As an Outworlder, he’d never been on a ship large enough to take on more than a couple dozen people, so the distinction between crew and passengers felt disorienting. It was like being on a station with dim lights and unusually narrow corridors.

  They stepped through another hatchway into a control room. Almost two dozen chairs faced an array of instruments that stretched from floor to ceiling. When full, it would have been a tight squeeze to get through, but the only other people in the room were two women taking instructions from a young crewman. He stood up from his chair and saluted.

  “Good upshift, Captain.”

  “Good upshift to you, Corporal Sanders,” said Elijah, stopping for a moment. “Everything going well?”

  “Very well, sir. I was just finishing up with our training session before mess.”

  “Good, good. Carry on.”

  The women were young, about Jeremiah’s age. They eyed him and Noemi curiously, but he didn’t recognize either of them. Besides Mariya and her parents, Captain Elijah was the only one on the Hope of Oriana whom he actually knew. He nodded to the trainees, trying hard not to feel out of place.

  “We run a tight ship,” said the captain as he led them through an
other hatchway. “We have to, seeing how many people we have to support. The treatment and recycling systems alone are enough to keep ten men busy both shifts.”

  “Both shifts?” Jeremiah asked.

  “That’s right: we’re on a two twelve-hour schedule, with 92 percent of the bunks filled to capacity at any given time. The lounges and rec hall have a maximum capacity of about thirty each, which is barely enough to service anyone who isn’t on duty.”

  Not a lot of personal space.

  “This is the mess hall,” the captain continued, motioning to the room on the other side of the next hatchway. “It’s the main gathering place on the ship, as well as where we take our meals. I prefer to keep the meal shifts as large as possible—helps to build camaraderie and boost morale.”

  Compared to everything else they’d seen so far, the mess hall was positively gigantic. Three rows of stainless steel benches lined either side, each large enough for at least ten or fifteen people. Portholes in the walls gave enough of a view to make the place feel roomy, while bright LEDs kept the space well-lit. Two crew members with white aprons wiped down the tables in preparation for the next meal, while two others set out stacks of trays at the head of a buffet-style serving line.

  “Is the food here synthesized?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Most of it,” said Elijah, “though we plan to build a hydroponics farm as soon as we arrive at Zarmina. Until then, it’s just stores and sythmeal.”

  We’d better stock up at B’tum while we can, then, Jeremiah thought to himself.

  Captain Elijah led them out the back end of the mess hall and into another long corridor, this one with people dressed mostly in simple civilian clothes. Just a few steps from the hatchway, they stopped at a door marked with a large white cross within a red heart—the universal symbol for medicine. Noemi gave Jeremiah a glance as the captain palmed the door open.