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

by Joe Vasicek

  Her face fell, and she looked away. “That’s what they told me when I was still betrothed.”

  “You mean back at Oriana Station?”

  “Yeah. One day, we had our lives planned out to the names of all our children. The next, he was on a Coreward starship, and I was on the Hope of Oriana headed to the middle of nowhere.”

  Her voice trailed off. Jeremiah folded his arms.

  “Look,” she said quickly, “I know you probably think this is crazy—we barely even know each other, after all—but when you married Noemi, you didn’t know her either. You didn’t even speak the same language, and yet it still worked out for you. Why can’t it work out for us?”

  “But Mariya, I have feelings for Noemi.”

  “And I’m not asking you to give those up—not at all. In fact, I think this will help you to be even closer to her.”

  Jeremiah took a deep breath as his head began to spin. He raised a hand to his forehead, but Mariya pressed on undaunted.

  “We’re practically best friends, and you need me to help you learn the language. If we’re already this connected, why shouldn’t we all be tied together through marriage? It would make everything so much simpler.”

  It’s because her life was shattered when we left Oriana Station, he realized. She lost everything that she took for granted, and she’s afraid of losing it again—that’s why she wants this so badly.

  “I know you feel really insecure right now,” he said, “and I want to help you—really, I do. But marry you? Noemi and I have already been through so much—it feels like betraying her just to consider it.”

  “It’s not a betrayal,” she said, edging even closer. “Besides, I know you’re capable of sharing your feelings with more than one woman.”

  He frowned. “How?”

  “Don’t you remember that girl on Oriana Station? You know, the one you kissed to get us on this ship?”

  Héloise. His veins turned to ice.

  “That was different,” he said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew she had a point. The girl Héloise—had it been a mistake to kiss her? At the time, it had seemed like such a harmless request. All he’d wanted was to get Mariya and her family a spot on the Hope of Oriana, so that they could all leave for the Outworlds together. Without Héloise’s connections, Mariya and her family would just be another band of poor, starving immigrants bound for the Coreward Stars.

  “I know,” said Mariya, “and I’m not judging you for that. Really, I’m not. It’s just …” Her voice trailed off as her cheeks turned red.

  “Just what?”

  “Just—if you’re capable of sharing that part of yourself, even for a moment, then maybe … I mean, can’t we just give it a chance?”

  He looked into her eyes and saw, for the briefest of moments, a reflection of the fear that had sometimes threatened to take him on the long solo voyages in the midst of the starry deep. To stare into the face of the dark unknown and plunge all alone into the infinite abyss—yes, he knew how that felt. He knew all too well.

  “You really are serious about this, aren’t you?”

  She bit her lip again and nodded, her round, shimmering eyes never leaving him.

  “If I said yes, are you sure you wouldn’t come to regret it? That when things are a little more settled and we’ve established ourselves on the new world, that you won’t ever resent having to share a man with another woman?”

  “No—it’s not like that at all,” she said quickly. “Noemi and I are like sisters—there wouldn’t be any jealousy between us. In fact, I think this would make us even closer. It couldn’t be more perfect—it really couldn’t.”

  Do you have any idea what you’re talking about? Jeremiah wanted to ask. Instead, he turned away from her and shook his head.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I seriously doubt that.”

  “But it’s true! I’ve already talked with her about it, and she agrees.”

  A cold chill shot down Jeremiah’s back.

  “Wait—you what?”

  “I talked with her,” said Mariya, “and she told me she’s open to the idea. We’re already so close, I’m sure we could make it work.”

  Jeremiah clenched his fists as blood rushed to his cheeks. “When did you talk with her?”

  “Just a day or two ago—probably when my father was talking with you about the very same thing. I—”

  But before she could finish, he pulled down the second dream monitor and unfolded the empty chair. Noemi lay opposite him in a deep state of artificial sleep, her face covered by the visor of the helmet-like dream monitor.

  “Wait!” Mariya yelled. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to talk with my wife,” said Jeremiah. He parted the hair in the back of his head to reveal his neural socket. With his other hand, he pulled down the dream monitor and slipped it over his head.

  “But—but don’t you want me to translate for you?”

  “No,” he said. Not for this.

  Without another word, he jacked himself into the shared simulation.

  * * * * *

  The dark yellow sun shone low on the horizon as Jeremiah climbed up the grassy hill to the rocky outcropping. The trees at the edges of the meadow had turned brilliant shades of orange and red, as if some godlike hand had dipped them upside down in paint. Overhead, the magnificent cloudscape shone white and purple against the deep blue evening sky.

  “Noemi!” Jeremiah shouted, shivering as a chill breeze nipped at his skin. The grass crunched under his feet, now little more than golden-brown stalks. The once-blue flowers had wilted and fallen to the earth, while the yellow ones now cast puffy white seed pods into the wind. A cluster of dried, shriveled leaves blew past him on a bone-chilling wind.

  It was as if the land itself was dying.

  His heart pounding, he ran up to the rocks where she’d always been before. He found her on the other side, staring at the rapidly setting sun as if watching the world come to an end. Her long brown hair danced in the wind, while the tattered hem of her dress fluttered against her knees. Her feet and ankles were bare, and her dress was too thin to offer any protection against the worsening weather. With both hands she held her swollen belly, which was now so round that it almost seemed like a world—one waiting to be born while the universe around her ran headlong to its own inevitable death and oblivion.

  “Noemi,” he shouted, running up to her side and putting his arms around her. Her skin was cold to the touch, and she seemed so frail that he immediately let go for fear of hurting her. She looked up at him and gave him a sad smile, one that seemed lost somewhere between hello and goodbye.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning. Above them, the clouds shone pink and red as the sun continued its unstoppable descent.

  Noemi looked away and waved her hand as if to say that nothing was the matter. Of course, the gesture did nothing to reassure him. With both hands, he gently took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. The breeze whipped her hair in front of her face, but he ignored that as he looked into her eyes.

  “Is it Mariya?” he asked, his hands quivering. “Did she tell you about—about—” His voice cracked, and a sudden rage came over him, filling him with a desire to rip to shreds anyone or anything that came between them.

  “No,” said Noemi, putting a hand on his chest. “No. Mariya friend.”

  Not anymore.

  “What did she tell you—that you would have to share me with her? Is that why everything in the simulation is dying?”

  “Dai-ying?” she asked, looking at him with uncomprehending eyes.

  “Listen,” he said, “I don’t know what she told you, but I don’t want anyone or anything to come between us. Do you understand? Nothing!”

  Noemi made a soft shushing noise and put a finger on his lips. His rage ebbed and subsided, leaving him emotionally drained. The sky exploded with colors as the sun rapidly set, then turned from red to purple to black. Time flowed lik
e water as the clouds parted and the timeless stars came out, the milky band of the galaxy illuminating the moonless sky.

  And then they were in the cabin of the Ariadne, alone in the starry deep with eons of space and time separating them from the rest of civilization. Noemi smiled again, and the sight brought tears to Jeremiah’s eyes, though he didn’t know why. She put her arms around him and held him close as he began to sob.

  “I love you, Noemi,” he said softly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I stay,” she said, rubbing his back. “Jerem-ahra no afraid—I stay.”

  He sniffed and nodded. “That’s good.”

  “Happy?”

  “Yes—very much.”

  She took his hand and led him through the doorway to the cockpit. Even though he knew they were still in the simulation, the sheer realism of it all made him stop and take pause. Every detail had been reproduced almost perfectly, down to the scuff marks on the floor and the scratches on the instrument panels. The way that Noemi had seamlessly transitioned from one simulated world to another showed an unprecedented level of skill.

  She pointed out the window at a distant starship, and Jeremiah somehow knew that Mariya was on it. “We go,” she said, and squeezed his hand as if to assure him that wherever he went, she would go with him.

  He tensed. The simulation reminded him of the end of their first long voyage together, when they’d arrived at Alpha Oriana and found themselves again swept up in the cares and concerns of human society. In a small way, he always felt as if some part of him died every time he put into port. That feeling had extended to Noemi, and he felt it again now—the sense that something irretrievable was about to be lost. Through the simulator, Noemi seemed to be telling him that there was nothing they could do about it. It was inevitable.

  All of this Jeremiah felt intuitively as the starship crept closer. And yet, even though it made perfect sense, he knew it was only the logic of dreams, fluid and ephemeral. The fact that he recognized this told him that Noemi wasn’t trying to manipulate him, but that she was trying to tell him something.

  “No,” he told her. “We don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “Don’t afraid,” she said softly. “I love you.”

  “But—but it’s not right,” he said. “She can’t expect this much of us. It’s just not right.”

  “Don’t afraid,” she said again. “I—”

  But before she could finish, he jacked himself out.

  * * * * *

  Jeremiah opened his eyes and pulled back the visor of the dream monitor. His heart still pounded from the intensity of the simulation, and his breath came in surprisingly short gasps. As he glanced around the cabin of the Ariadne, it took him a few seconds to realize that he was back in the real world.

  “Mariya?” he called out, rising to his feet. He ducked his head into the cockpit, but she wasn’t there either. Apparently, she’d returned to the Hope of Oriana while he was jacked in. With his head swimming and his anger still hot, it was probably a good thing that she’d left.

  He stared at Noemi, her body limp and her eyes covered by the gray visor of the dream monitor. Her arms twitched a little and her mouth parted slightly, but she didn’t jack out right away. He opened the visor and gently patted her shoulder, then reached behind her head and switched it off manually.

  Noemi blinked and stared off for a moment before coming to the present. He gently helped her to her feet, taking care not to jostle her stomach. She gave him a look so filled with longing that he couldn’t help but choke up with emotion. He put his arms around her, and for several moments they held each other in silence.

  “Don’t be sad,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear. “I’m not going to let anyone come between us.”

  “Sad?” she asked. “Why sad?”

  “You’re sad,” he said, remembering the strange vision of death from the simulation. “But you don’t have to be. Whatever Mariya told you, whatever she tried to make you believe—it isn’t true.”

  “Mariya?”

  He drew in a sharp breath and fought back his anger. “No,” he said, “no Mariya. Not anymore. Just us—chven ertat.”

  “Ertat.” Together.

  As he held her in his arms, he realized that things would never be the same between the three of them. For better or worse, Mariya was no longer a friend—and that meant that they couldn’t stay on the Hope of Oriana.

  Which meant that they were free to leave.

  “Don’t worry,” he said softly in her ear. “This is a good place. We can leave the others and settle down here to make our home.”

  “Home?”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “Home.”

  Chapter 14

  The control rooms leading up to the bridge of the Hope of Oriana were mostly empty as Jeremiah walked past them. Row after row of screens lay blank, the tiny booth-like chairs unoccupied. For a moment, he wondered if the bridge would be empty as well. But when he palmed open the door and stepped inside, the control panels and indicator lights glowed all along the walls and ceiling. The five plush command chairs were empty, but Captain Elijah stood on the far side of the narrow room, consulting with two of his senior officers. All three of them turned their heads as Jeremiah entered.

  “Ah, Jeremiah Edeni,” said Captain Elijah. He extended his hand. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Am I interrupting anything?” Jeremiah asked. He looked from face to face to gauge whether he should apologize and leave.

  “Of course not,” said Elijah, putting a hand on his shoulder as they shook hands. “We were just discussing some of the finer details of the upcoming voyage, but that can wait. How may I help you?”

  “Can we, ah, take this to your quarters? I’d rather discuss this in private.”

  Elijah raised an eyebrow. “Of course, of course. Right this way.”

  The senior officers eyed them as they left the room, making Jeremiah nervous. Rumors were bound to spread on a ship as tightly packed as the Hope of Oriana, and he didn’t want to do anything to feed them. Fortunately, the corridors were all but empty—most of the colonists were probably planetside, spending their short stay on the surface of B’tum.

  Captain Elijah’s quarters were located just before the mess hall. He punched in the access code to unlock the door and stepped aside to let Jeremiah in first. Though the room was only half the size of the bunk rooms, it felt luxuriously spacious compared to the rest of the ship. A blue and white rug covered the floor, while a pair of digital wall-screens cycled through stunning orbital planetscapes that reminded him of the magnificent storms above New Ebitha. The rest of the room was surprisingly sparse, with a perfectly made bed, an uncluttered desk, and a tidy computer terminal that retracted almost completely into the far right corner.

  “Have a seat,” said Elijah as the door hissed shut behind him. He motioned to the bed and sat down at the desk.

  “Thanks,” said Jeremiah, sitting down. He fidgeted a little with his hands, then stopped.

  “So what do you want to tell me?”

  “It’s about the colony mission, sir,” he began. “Some, ah, issues have come up, and I’ve decided to take my wife and stay here at B’tum instead of going on to Zarmina.”

  Captain Elijah frowned. “You’re backing out?”

  “That’s right, sir.”

  For a few brief moments, neither of them said anything. The wall-screens shifted from the massive swirling clouds of a gas giant planet to the bluish-orange horizon of a cloudless desert.

  “Well, I can’t stop you,” said Elijah. “You’ve got your own starship, and unlike the others, you don’t have a contractual stake in the mission. But even so, it saddens me to see you go. Is there anything I can do to help you change your mind?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Jeremiah. “This is a personal issue between us and the other Deltans.”

  “A dispute? Some sort of misunderstanding?”

  “It’s not a
misunderstanding. I—”

  “Are you absolutely sure about that?” asked Elijah, looking him straight in the eye. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all my travels, it’s that no culture sees the universe quite the same as another. You might be part of their culture through marriage, but you’re not one of them—not yet.”

  Jeremiah thought back to the dying world in Noemi’s simulation and clenched his fists. “I’m sure,” he said softly.

  “Are you sure it can’t be resolved? I’d be more than happy to mediate.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think that would help.”

  Captain Elijah grunted and rose to his feet. “Well, if there’s nothing I can do to dissuade you, I suppose I should wish you luck.”

  “Thank you,” said Jeremiah, sighing in relief. He stood up and shook Elijah’s hand.

  “If you decide to make any trade runs, could you do us a favor and spread the word that we’re out there? The first few years of any colony are always the toughest, and I’m sure we’ll need everything we can possibly trade for.”

  “Of course. I’ll do my best.”

  “Good,” said Elijah. He gave Jeremiah a friendly smile and palmed open the door.

  “May Sol, Earth, and Luna keep you, then.”

  “And you as well,” said Jeremiah, stepping into the corridor.

  * * * * *

  The narrow bulkheads shook violently with the rest of the cabin as the ferry shuttle made re-entry. Jeremiah gripped the armrests of his chair while outside the window orange flames burned around the edges of the shuttle’s heat shield. The roar of descent reminded him of the trips he used to make with his father to Edenia II’s orbital station as a little boy. He still remembered the first time he’d come down to the surface on a ferry not unlike this one, and how terrified he had been of the reentry.

  “Just like old times, eh?” Amos shouted next to him. In spite of the gee forces pressing them both against their seat restraints, he was grinning from ear to ear.