Archangel Project 2: Noa's Ark

by C. Gockel

  Noa sat up. The light fell away and she was naked, on top of James, his tattoos swirling over every inch of skin but his face. “Quick, get your clothes,” she said. She looked around but couldn’t see her own clothes. How had they vanished? She reached down and grabbed a sheet from the bed, ripping it out from beneath James.

  “Noa,” James sat up, but he didn’t put on any clothes.

  “Noa,” she heard Kenji from beyond the door.

  “I’m coming,” Noa said, wrapping the sheet around her body.

  “It’s a dream, Noa!” James said, standing up and closing the distance between them.

  “I’m waiting, Noa!” Kenji cried, from beyond the door. “I’m scared.”

  “Don’t do it, Noa!” James said.

  She smacked her hand down on the door and it opened to the tarmac on Adam’s Station. She could smell blood, sweat, and dust. Piles of people lay writhing on the floor, some of them crawling toward her. “You left us here!” someone hissed.

  She turned and came face-to-face with Kenji. “You left me,” he said. His hands were clenched in fists at his side. He was wearing his glasses and ordinary clothes, not Luddeccean robes.

  “I’m sorry,” Noa said. “I had to.”

  Ashley materialized beside Noa’s brother. “You left me, too.”

  Somewhere, way off in the distance, she heard James shout, “You’re dreaming, Noa!”

  Noa put a hand to her mouth. “You made me, you told me to go …”

  Figures shimmered around her friend and her sister and solidified as her first crew. “You left us, too …”

  “I didn’t leave … I was in sick bay!” Noa said.

  “Noa, you didn’t leave us.” The voice came from behind her. She turned and found James. Oddly he was dressed in a pair of navy blue silk pajama bottoms. Carl Sagan was wrapped around his shoulder.

  Extending a hand to her, he said, “And you didn’t leave them.” On his shoulder, Carl Sagan kneaded his claws and made a keening sound.

  Noa couldn’t move. The sheet she had wrapped around herself whipped around her like a white banner.

  “Noa, the sheets on the Ark are gray,” James said, his hand still outstretched toward her. Carl Sagan’s head bobbed. James gestured with his free hand at the pajamas he was wearing. “And these are the finest System Nine silk … they didn’t come from the Ark’s supplies.”

  “I can’t move,” Noa said.

  Turning his outstretched hand palm upward, he said, “Yes, you can. You escaped a concentration camp, you can escape a nightmare.” The tattoos on his outstretched arms swirled and became real feathers that caught in the same breeze as her white sheet.

  Carl Sagan squeaked. James beckoned. Noa couldn’t move her feet, but she found she could lift her arm. She managed to slip her fingers into James’s. Behind her the voices of all her nightmares roared, “You left us! You left us!”

  “You saved us, Carl Sagan and I both …” James said. “Come back.”

  “No!” her nightmares screamed.

  “Please,” James said, his outstretched hand trembling, his voice beseeching. “You make me human.”

  People like James were who she was fighting for. He was an important part of her team. She couldn’t abandon him for anything, not even nightmares. Noa took a step. The door swished shut, cutting off a howl from all her inner demons. Taking her hand, James reeled her in, and she pressed her forehead to his chest. He exhaled and her mind swam with a sensation of the most profound relief, as though a ton of weight had just left her chest. His relief or hers? And at that thought she floated above the floor with James. Around her, instead of the drab Ark gray swirled blue sky. James’s arms swept around her back, and he dropped his head to hers. Carl Sagan purred by her ear.

  She blinked up at the werfle, bobbing on James’s shoulder.

  “You must be dreaming him here,” James said. “In the real world, he’s sitting on a pillow hissing and giving me the evil eye. Also, the tattoos, and the feathers, and the wings didn’t come with any avatar I’ve ever bought.”

  Noa peeked through one eye. His wings—or her dream of his wings—were wrapped around them both. They were blurry around the edges, but gleaming white, and nearly bright as the sun. She closed her eyes again. “Angels have wings. Every Luddeccean knows that.”

  James’s hands dropped to a place that was more than friendly. “I’m not angelic … like I said, you make me very human.” Noa smiled as heat raced through her, but she didn’t open her eyes. Carl Sagan let loose a vicious hiss.

  “I think maybe he’s telling me you need to sleep,” James grumbled.

  “He is an obviously confused figment of my subconscious,” Noa mumbled against James’s chest. As everything faded to black, she swore she heard the confused figment of her subconscious give an indignant squeak.

  * * *

  Something hard and sharp was poking into Noa’s cheek. The rest of her front was pressed against something only somewhat more yielding. Despite that she felt warm … unconcerned … no, wait. Her head bolted up. She was stretched out on top of James. He raised an eyebrow, looking up at her through sleepy eyes. The thing that had been poking her cheek was the zipper on the front of the standard issue Ark pullover they all wore. Their minds were still joined with the hard-link. During the night at some point he had drawn the edges of the blankets up around them like a cocoon. Her mind sought the time, and her internal chronometer said she had slept for seven and a half hours. She had a moment of panic. Her emotions must have transferred across the link, or shown on her face, because James smoothed a hand down her back. “We’ll be arriving at the planet Atlantia orbits in an hour and twelve minutes.”

  The plan was to park behind the giant planet on the side opposite the tiny Atlantian colony, conveniently opposite Luddeccea as well. They’d hide in the shadow of the planet, the icy ring that surrounded it, and its thirty-four moons.

  “I should—” Noa’s voice cut off abruptly as James's hand moved a little lower than was strictly friendly. The cocoon became even warmer.

  “Everything is fine, Noa,” James said.

  She felt a twinge of annoyance flow from him into her mind. His lower than friendly hand paused. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I’m not annoyed with you. Ghost has been giving me regular updates … a little too regular.”

  “Do you need sleep?” Noa asked, genuinely concerned.

  His gaze met hers. “No.”

  The hand resumed being more … nice. But something was wrong. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked down. “How are we still clothed … didn’t we …?”

  “Only in your dreams,” he said, and an image filled her visual cortex of flying, encircled by wings, and she remembered. It was lovely … and not enough. She wanted the real James, too. The thought had barely left her mind when the room faded to red, and James rolled her over so that she was underneath him, his body a welcome weight. In their minds he kissed her. In the real world she pressed her lips to his, still immobile. She didn’t care. Their legs slid together as they reoriented themselves. One of James’s hands glided over her breast.

  In her mind Chavez’s frequency began blinking urgently.

  James let out a very frustrated sounding breath of air.

  Noa answered the signal, of course, being very careful to put up her emotion blocking shields.

  “What is it, Ensign?” Noa asked.

  Chavez responded, “Commander, we are receiving a distress signal.”

  She felt a sudden coolness, and an emptiness in her mind. It took her a moment to realize that James had yanked out the hard-link. His back was to her. He was running a hand through his hair.

  Sitting up, Noa’s fingers went to her neural port. “Send it through,” she commanded.

  * * *

  Manuel was in James’s mind. As was Noa. Or their avatars were. Both avatars were wearing Fleet grays. They were standing around a mental map James had constructed of the enormous, brilliant oran
ge gas giant unimaginatively code-named S8O5. S8 designated System 8. O5 indicated it was the 5th body in orbit from the system’s sun. Technically, Luddeccea was S8O2. Libertas was S8O3 … Adam’s asteroid was technically S8O4.653681, but James had only discovered that after one of the engineers had informed him of the number over breakfast. During the early days of space exploration, every planet, asteroid and comet had had a name. With thousands of planets now discovered, humans had taken to giving uninhabited planets codes rather than names. For some reason the thought called to James’s mind the numbers tattooed on Noa’s wrist.

  “How long until the repairs are finished, Manuel?” Noa said.

  James lifted his gaze. Noa’s avatar’s face was lit by the orange glow of S8O5. The planet was larger than Jupiter. James had made it appear taller than the room, and semi-translucent. The Ark was a pinpoint of light hovering near Noa’s chest. Atlantia, S85M20, was a point of light on the opposite side of the planet, just one of the planet's many moons. Noa’s eyes were focused on it with laser-like intensity.

  “Another ten hours to complete the diagnostic,” Manuel’s avatar replied. His eyes were on the moon as well.

  “You heard the distress call?” Noa asked.

  Manuel’s avatar was younger and less harried looking than the real Manuel. It could convey emotions, and right now his avatar's expression was grim. “Heard it … horrible.” Manuel didn’t transmit any emotions across the ether, but James heard a heat in his voice that made him uncomfortable.

  James had heard the call, too. A man’s voice was nearly drowned out by cries in the background. This is Lieutenant Aarav Sterling of the Atlantian Local Guard, requesting assistance for forty-one survivors. A child’s wail had risen in the background as Sterling had continued. We have supplies for only another thirteen days, and we can’t survive another wave.

  Manuel shook his head. “Tidal wave. The moon’s core is too unstable.” He huffed. “They should never have built a colony there. The atmosphere is unbreathable outside the dome. If the dome cracked, they’re holed up somewhere dependent on oxygen filtrators. If they were left behind—” His avatar’s nostrils flared.

  Noa’s eyes remained on Atlantia. Her hands were behind her back. “They’re praying there isn’t another wave.”

  In the real world, James heard Manuel take a deep breath. “I can’t believe that C Corp was seriously considering making it their in-system headquarters,” the engineer said.

  It was almost a non-sequitur, and it made James feel impatient. He just wanted to get to the point in the meeting when Noa said what they would do. An image of the faces in her dream flashed in his mind. He knew what she would do. A static charge of irritation flashed beneath his skin. He could feel it make its path along the bones of his spine in his neck.

  Eyes still on the moon, Noa said, “I went there before I joined the Fleet. It’s beautiful … I’d rather live there than Adam’s rock. Even with the tidal waves.”

  “The Fleet would have rescued them before,” Manuel said.

  “Yes,” said Noa. Her avatar rocked slightly on her heels.

  James wanted to scream. They weren’t Fleet, they were refugees. Let Libertas deal with this.

  “Libertas is probably too bogged down with refugees to handle it,” Noa said. The thought was so close to James’s own that he wondered if he’d thought it aloud. For a moment all his neurons and nanos went still, and then he realized she wasn’t glaring at him with flashing eyes, shouting some impassioned speech about doing the right thing.

  A red light went off at the periphery of his vision. In the real world he was aware of a door sliding open.

  “It’s Wren,” Noa said. “Let him join us in your mind.”

  James opened the ether channel to the pilot, and Wren’s avatar burst into the shared space between Noa’s, Manuel’s, and his mind. His avatar looked younger, and slightly better groomed. He wore a long black leather jacket that to James’s mind just looked like a child’s dress up costume.

  For a moment, Wren’s avatar’s eyes went wide as he gazed up at S8O5. “This is … it’s as clear as a holo,” he said, sounding awed and maybe even afraid.

  James’s hand trembled in the real world. The mindscapes he could create were crisper and more detailed than normal memories.

  Manuel pointed at James. “He’s a history professor. He has an incredible app for recreating scenes.”

  “History professor?” said Wren, his eyes widening again.

  James didn’t even bother to shrug; he didn’t believe it, either. Maybe he had been a history professor before … but that was another life.

  In a clipped voice, Noa said, “What do you want, Wren?”

  Wren’s avatar's head jerked in her direction. “You have to ask?”

  Noa didn’t say a word. She lowered her chin and glared at the freighter pilot.

  Raising a hand and gesturing at the scene, Wren said, “Don’t try to stage a rescue mission! That would be madness right now.”

  “I agree,” said Noa. “It would be ludicrous.”

  “You agree?” said James.

  “I know how you Fleet people are,” Wren said, voice rising in their minds, avatar beginning to pace.

  “You heard me, James,” Noa said, looking at the ceiling and gritting her teeth.

  James’s avatar smiled.

  “Always duty until death and all that,” Wren said with an expansive wave of an arm.

  “She said she agreed with you,” James said.

  “Commander?” said Manuel, eyebrows rising.

  “I did indeed say that,” Noa said.

  James was so dizzy with surprise and relief that his ethernet-virtual hologram flashed and wavered.

  “Oh,” said Wren, his avatar’s shoulders falling. He put a hand through his hair.

  Noa sighed. In a voice that was slightly less clipped, she said, “You did a great job getting us here, Wren.”

  Wren smiled and shrugged. “Well, of course I did.”

  “I’ll need more of your piloting skills as soon as all our diagnostics are complete,” Noa added with a smile of her own. James noticed it didn’t go all the way to her avatar’s eyes.

  “Where will I be piloting us to?” Wren asked.

  Noa winked. “That is top secret. But someplace your enemies will be unlikely to find us.”

  Wren’s eyes narrowed at Noa. Manuel's eyes narrowed at her, too, and one of his eyebrows lifted.

  Still smiling at Wren, Noa inclined her head to the door. “In the meantime, get some food and then get some sleep.”

  Manuel’s eyes slid to Wren and back to Noa. She met his gaze, and even though James’s mind was linked with both the engineer and Noa, he had the feeling that there was another telepathic conversation he was missing. “We had fresh Luddeccean eggs, and cheese, and fruit when we took off. There might still be some left,” Manuel said.

  Wren licked his lips. “Really?” James thought he even detected a tremor in his hands.

  “Go, Wren,” Noa said. “Eat and sleep. That’s an order.”

  Wren cocked his head. “You know, I am a captain, and—”

  “Don’t push it,” said Noa.

  Giving a jaunty salute, Wren’s avatar faded from view.

  “Is he really gone?” Manuel said, eyes sliding between Noa and James.

  “He’s left,” James said. He was actually tuning into Wren’s ethernet access. The freighter pilot was pinging the general frequency, trying to find directions to the galley. They were orbiting a planet with an inhabited moon; Wren could have been trying to bounce an ethernet signal off a satellite, but he was only worried about food …

  … and Noa wasn’t going to save those last few inhabitants of that moon. His mind was flooded with so much optimism that the ethernet projection between their minds flashed again.

  Manuel’s avatar turned to Noa. “You don’t really plan on leaving those people there, do you?”

  Noa raised an eyebrow. “It would be foolish t
o execute a rescue operation at this time.”

  James was so happy that the planet he was projecting turned yellow like a young sun, and the moon sparkled like a twin star.

  She tilted her head and smiled. “We have full diagnostics to run before we stage a rescue operation.”

  Manuel sighed with relief. “We have to rescue those people. I can't let what happened to my family happen to …” His avatar looked away. In the real world James thought he saw the man's eyes glisten too brightly, and Manuel wiped his face.

  The scene James had projected went completely dark, and it was just the three of them, standing in an unoccupied cabin.

  “Thanks to 6T9's babysitting, I’ve gotten more sleep than I have in a while.” Manuel took an audible breath. “Despite everything.” He was nodding and pushing his bangs from his eyes. “I’ll get the diagnostics done and any repairs we need done, too.”

  “I know you will,” Noa said. “And keep this quiet, no need to alarm Ghost—or Wren.”

  Static prickled James’s skin. Of course, Ghost was off-shift, now, and absent from this meeting. He wouldn’t like Noa’s plans any more than James did.

  Manuel nodded once more and headed out the door.

  As soon as it shut, Noa pivoted on her heels and looked at James. “I know you’re not relieved,” she said. James could practically see the tension in her shoulders beneath the Ark’s generic clothing.

  James couldn’t bring himself to respond.

  “It was obvious,” Noa said, “in the way the scene went black.”

  “If it’s obvious,” James snapped, “There is no reason to discuss it. You will do what you want, despite my objections.”

  Noa took a single step back, and though it was only another pace away, he felt like a chasm was opening up between them. “You will always have my support,” James said, feeling his skin heat. As much as he hated it, he couldn’t help it, could he? “Even when you don’t have my approval. We already have extra crew aboard, one of whom you extremely mistrust, and you’re thinking of taking on more strangers.”