Among The Stars (Heinlein's Finches Book 2)

by Robin Banks

  As I follow Tom down to the cargo bay, it suddenly hits me: there are no dangers here. Everything’s safe – well, the animals are not, but Nicky’s not letting us do anything he thinks is dangerous, and I trust him. I know I’ve only known him a couple of days, but I really do. I trust him about this, anyway. He really seems to care about us not screwing up, not getting hurt. I can’t imagine him hurting us on purpose. Alya’s the same, kinda. She doesn’t care enough about us to go out of her way to hurt us.

  I’ve been lying in my bunk with Tom next to me and for the first time since I can remember I felt totally safe. That’s somehow converted into waking up with my brain full of fluff. I’m not scared, and that scares me. If anything comes at me, I’ll be totally unprepared. But what could possibly come at me up here?

  I’d probably end up thinking in circles about that for ages, but I don’t have the time. Nicky’s set us to work and I have to pay attention. He’s a good teacher. He makes sure we’ve really got something before leaving us to do it, and never assumes that we know anything already. There’s a hell of a lot to learn and remember, though. There’s nothing written down bar the feeding list and every animal is different, so I don’t know how I’ll ever learn everything I need to know. But Nicky managed to, and I’m pretty good at picking up stuff as long as it doesn’t involve reading, so I’m sure I’ll get there. Eventually. For now, though, it’s all I can do to follow Nicky’s instructions.

  Tom is as clueless as I am, I know it, but he’s a lot more confident so he comes out looking better. That’s nothing new.

  Once all the animals have been fed, watered, cleaned out, and exercised, Nicky calls us over near the food store.

  “Now we do the hard bit. Ok, not hard, but dangerous, very dangerous. Tigers need play.”

  I only know about tigers from school, which was a long time ago, but I know that they’re dangerous. They used to eat people on Terra. Seeing them with Nicky, though, it’s hard to believe that. As soon as they see him, they start rubbing themselves on their cages and making huffing sounds, jostling each other to be as close to him as possible. He puts a hand flat against the cage and they all rub their noses and foreheads against it.

  Nicky turns to catch me staring and frowns. “You must never do this, ok? They are like big kittens for me. I know them from babies. But for you, they are not. They hurt you. They eat you. Maybe they eat me too, one day, but not today. So you must never be so close they get you. Also Mala will pee on you. She is naughty.”

  “Pee?” snorts Tom.

  “Yes. She watches you. When you cannot move, she pees on you. For fun. Four tigers, one very good, one very naughty, two ok. But all very dangerous. No touching, even through cage. Ok?”

  “Yeah.” “Yes.”

  I’m starting to get really wound up, but the job turns out to be simple enough. There’s a set of cages making a tunnel between the tiger’s cages and the corral. All we have to do is open and shut a series of drop-down barriers so the tigers move in the right direction, making sure we don’t stand so close that they can get us.

  I’m just starting to think that we’ve got this when Tom gets pissed on. He’s holding up one of the barriers and can’t let go of it without dropping it on one of the tigers, who’s standing right under it and refusing to budge. Another tiger takes that chance to spray all over him. He’s lucky that she doesn’t get his face, but the smell is intense and so is his swearing.

  Nicky collapses into laughter. “You see? This is what they do. Team work. They are bastards.”

  “That was a set up?”

  “Yes. They are brother and sister. Very clever. They get you good.”

  “It’s not funny!” snaps Tom.

  “It’s funny from here,” I can’t help saying. Tom glowers at me. I’ll pay for this later. “I’m sorry, ok? But Nicky, how do we get them back into their cages? If they don’t want to go. They seem pretty willful.”

  “We put dinner in their cage. Don’t go in, don’t eat. But first we clean.”

  By the time we’ve finished cleaning out their cages, the tigers are clamoring at the door of the tunnel waiting to come back in.

  “Don’t they like playing?”

  “They like food better. Food and sleep.”

  Getting them back into their individual cages is a bit of a struggle, but we eventually manage. Then it’s time for a wash, food, and bed again.

  I’m actually not exhausted, for a change, so it takes me a while to fall asleep. Tom switched off as soon as he got horizontal. I listen to his breathing and wonder what he got up to between leaving juvie and getting here. I’ll probably never know. I listen to the humming of the ship, the faint vibrations all around me. I think maybe I should be frightened of how close death is to me right now – the thickness of the hull is all that stands between life and death by spacing. But then I’ve lived in a bubble all my life and I can’t see much of a difference. I hear the faint snuffling and shuffling of the animals in the hold. It hits me again that nothing here wants me harm. Is this what safety feels like? I can’t fit it in my head. I don’t know how to feel about how I feel. Tom’s breathing lulls me to sleep.

  I get jolted awake in the middle of the night. Something in my dreams woke me up to my current reality. Holy shit, I’m on a spaceship, bound for a planet I know nothing about, with no credit and no means to get back if I need to. Everything I know is gone forever. I wake up so suddenly and so full of panic that I sit up and whack my head squarely on the top bunk. That wakes Tom up too.

  “Wassup?” he mumbles thickly from his bunk.

  “Man, we’re on a fucking spaceship.”

  He shuffles around till he can look at me in the dim light. “Only now you figure this out?”

  “No, but I mean… Shit.”

  “You’re alright. I got you. Now shut the fuck up and let me sleep, ok?”

  He turns back around, wrapping himself in a cocoon of his blanket, muttering “fucking twitchy bastard” and other endearments until he’s asleep.

  I settle myself back down. He’s right. He’s got me. We’ve got each other. We’re good. I sleep.

  The smell of coffee and the clanging of tableware wake me up. After all the ups and downs and sideways of the last few days, I feel remarkably normal. I’m hungry as hell and I could do with some time to myself to clear my head, but other than that I’m good.

  Alya is sitting at the table, eyes closed, cup of coffee under her nose, looking as if she’s having some kind of religious experience. Nicky’s cooking. He turns around to nod at us, then goes back to his task, so we sit down and wait. Tom’s looking a lot better, I’m glad to see. He’s looking well enough to start some trouble. I guess we’ll have to find a way to keep ourselves busy on ship when we’re not exhausted. He’s not safe to be around when he’s bored.

  Nicky presents us with two plates of food. “Here you go. You tell me if you like.”

  I’m hungry enough to eat my own toenails, so I don’t really care, but it’s really good. Nicky watches our expressions and smiles smugly at Alya.

  “See? If you steal food, at least cook it well.”

  Alya opens one eye and sighs. “You and your high standards.”

  “You want food or not?”

  “And you call me mean. Be gentle. Jameson’s bound to come up with some pointless shit for me to deal with today. You know how he gets when he’s on ship. I can’t wait for him to be out of free com range.”

  “What is it that you actually do?” Tom must be feeling better. He’s got his full charm back on.

  “My official job title is Personal Assistant to the General Director. I know it is, because I picked it for myself.”

  That fazes Tom. He doesn’t seem to know whether to laugh or not.

  “What, really?”

  “Yes, really. Basically I deal with all the boring stuff that running this shitshow demands.”

  “She runs this,” nods Nicky. “Jameson just doesn’t know yet.”

 
; “Nonsense. Jameson is firmly in charge. He makes all the decisions. I may be able to influence how facts are presented to him, that’s true, but he’s the one in charge. It’s his shitshow.”

  “But you run it.”

  “In a way, yes. In another way, no. Doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t own it. I’m under contract, just like you.”

  “But you write the contract,” laughs Nicky.

  “Yes, that I do. I do all the dull, frustrating stuff. Speaking of which, as soon as we get set up on Anteia I have to go and find those four girls. No way in hell we’re going to find anyone where we’re landing, because there’s nothing there, and no way am I trawling the civilian bubbles on my own, so I’ll need one or both of these clods for the afternoon. I can help you set up in the morning; we should get there nice and early. Is that ok?”

  Nicky shrugs. “If is not ok, still has to happen, no?”

  “Yeah.” Alya sighs. “I could take one of the boys, maybe, but that would be a hassle. So, that means that one or both of you kids gets to spend their free time at work. Isn’t it grand?”

  “Doesn’t sound like it,” mutters Tom. “Time off is time off.”

  “That’s my decision made for me, then.” She turns to me. “You’re today’s winner. You get to come with me on a trip out-bubble on a planet entirely new to you, so I can check out a bunch of girls and pick out the prettiest ones. Do you think you can cope with that?”

  “Hell yeah! Sounds brilliant!”

  Tom frowns. “Wait. When you put it like that, maybe I want to come too.”

  Alya smirks at him. “When you put it like that, maybe I can’t be bothered taking you along.”

  “Oh, come on. I didn’t mean it.”

  “You meant it. You just didn’t think it through.”

  “Alyushka, be nice to the children,” sighs Nicky.

  “I’ll think about it. Or not. We’ll have to see how the build-up goes, anyway. But we have a plan of sorts, which is the only sort of plan we ever have.” She gets up and stretches. “I’ll be on the bridge. Bellow if you need me. Do you want some music on?”

  “Yes, please,” says Nicky. “But something nice. Something happy. For work. Not so everyone kill themselves.”

  When the music comes on, it seems to light up the whole ship. I’ve never heard anything like that before, which isn’t saying much because it’s not as if I’ve heard a lot of music. I can’t even imagine how those sounds are made. It’s great, though. It sounds like sunlight. Some bits are so wonderful that I get stuck listening and Tom has to jolt me out of it.

  The morning goes much more smoothly than yesterday. Once you can see it, there is obviously a system, a kind of order in which everything happens. About halfway through the morning I realize I can guess what we’re going to do next. Nicky seems to notice and smiles at me.

  “You see? Everything the same. Easy peasy. Good for animals, good for us.”

  “Doesn’t it get boring?” asks Tom.

  Nicky laughs at that. “Never. Hard enough to make sure everything is same. This is circus. Everything always go wrong.”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

  “Not good. But not boring.” He shrugs. “You get used to it. Or you run away. Most people run.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Long time. Longer than you are alive.”

  “And you still like it?”

  “Love it. Only life for me.”

  Come our lunch break we’re rested enough to actually be at a loss for something to do, so after hanging around the bunks for a bit we go knocking on Alya’s door.

  “Business or pleasure?” Alya asks without opening up.

  “Eh? What?”

  “If this is a social visit, you can pop in. If it’s work, I will step out. No work in my house. That’s a rule.”

  “Social, I guess? We were going to ask you a favor.”

  “Shoes off, then, and you may step in. Literally.” She slides the door open. “There’s not much room for guests in here.”

  “What are you going on about?” I blurt out. “This place’s bigger on the inside than the outside!”

  It is. It really is. Right in front of the door is a small open area, with Laika’s bed at one end. To one side of that, against the cockpit, is a cupboard that covers the entire partition. A drop-down table reveals a screen behind it. Alya was watching a threedee, now paused, the images still floating in mid-air. To the other side is a four-poster bed, the curtains now open, with cupboards above it. Underneath the bed is more storage. There isn’t a bit of wasted space. Everything is neat, pretty, and spotlessly clean. Tiny little lights are sprinkled everywhere. The only windows are in the back, behind the bed, and fairly small, but the roof over the open area has a viewing panel. This place is awesome, if a bit small. But then Alya is a very small person. I guess everything here is the perfect size for her.

  I must be looking suitably impressed, because she seems very pleased.

  “I built this all myself.”

  “Really?” Even Tom is impressed now.

  “Yeah. It will be a squeeze for you, but it suits me. It’s nice to have a chair that lets my feet touch the ground. Grab a couple of cushions, sit down, and if you keep complimenting me I might offer you a cup of tea.”

  “I thought you liked coffee.”

  “I need coffee to function. Tea is for entertaining. But not if you don’t like it.”

  “I don’t know if I ever had it. Not proper stuff, anyway.” Tom elbows me in the ribs, but it’s true.

  “Well, we can fix that. Another time, if you’re not in the mood now.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  I’m finding it very hard not to be nosey. I’ve never seen a place like this before. I’m really curious as to what is hidden behind all those little cupboard doors. Tom’s not even trying to hide his curiosity, but Alya doesn’t seem to mind.

  “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

  “We’ve got nothing to do.” I feel silly saying it, but it’s true. “We were wondering what you do when you’re on ship.”

  “Kolya not working you hard enough?” she smirks.

  “Clearly. So, what do you do?”

  “I read a lot. Watch threedees. I can set up the screen on the bridge for you, if you want.”

  “What, the big one?”

  “Yup. It’s pretty decent. What else? Kolya plays chess.”

  “With you?”

  “Oh hell no. I couldn’t last three moves against him. He plays against himself, or friends over the com. Some of his games last for years. They can only make a move when they’re in free com range.”

  “That sounds terribly boring,” blurts out Tom.

  “Yeah. Not my thing, but that’s what he likes. The artists train and practice and make costumes and props. The boys get violently drunk. Literally. They fight a lot, but it’s all in good fun. They’re a nice bunch.”

  “Boys?”

  “Oh, yeah. ‘Boys’ is what we call the guys who do all the physical work. Most of them are at least twice your age. It’s a circus thing: it doesn’t have to make sense. That’s about it for on-ship entertainment. You can go training in the cargo bay, keep yourself busy with whatever hobbies you brought along with you, or I can set you up for threedees. Or lend you a reader. I have a spare.”

  “Threedees would be awesome.” “Yeah.”

  “Pain in the ass kids, making me get up. Unless you want to watch what I’m watching. I’d only just started it. You may think it’s a bit weird, but it’s good. Well, I think it is, anyway.”

  Tom shrugs. “I don’t care. Whatever.”

  “Get comfy, then. And no talking.”

  We sit on her floor so our backs are resting against her bed and we lean back to watch the show right over our heads. Laika finds her way into my lap, but I don’t mind. It’s kinda comforting.

  Alya was right. It is weird.

  I turn to her and whisper
“Why is she singing and dancing? Is she ill?”

  Alya cracks up.

  “Well, what then? Look at it. They’re all at it, now. Do they have public parties or something? I mean, how comes they are all singing the same song and know the dance?”

  “Nah, it’s not real. I mean, it’s part of the story; the song tells part of the story. But the people wouldn’t be really singing in the streets.”

  “What?”

  “The singing and dancing is just there to make the threedee prettier. More fun.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Do you like the song?”

  “Hell yeah!”

  “I like the pretty ladies dancing,” Tom chimes in.

  “There you go. It makes the threedee more fun to watch. But no, the people in that place wouldn’t be really dancing and singing down the street. It’s pretend.”

  I go back to watching. Once I get used to how weird it all is and I get into the story, the time flies. By the time we’ve finished watching I want to ask Alya a ton of questions about it, but Nicky’s at her door telling us to get back to work.

  The evening’s work goes smoothly too. Now that we have half a clue about what we’re doing, Nicky leaves us to it and spends his time with the animals in the corral. I can’t really make any sense of what he’s doing, but he seems happy.

  Alya pops over from the bridge and catches me watching. “He’s good, isn’t he?”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Well, the animals have routines they perform; the ones that are in the show do, anyway. He’s running them through their routines so they don’t forget them. Nothing special there. But he’s doing it without any whips or sticks or treats. The animals just do what he’s saying because it’s him saying it. That’s the special bit. And the better the animals get, the better they get on with him, the less he has to do. If you see him working with Laika, he hardly moves at all. But then she’s an unusually biddable dog. She just wants to do what you want her to do. Sometimes she doesn’t get it right, but it’s not because she doesn’t care. She’s so easy that even I can manage her.” Laika looked up at the mention of her name and spent the rest of Alya’s speech leaning against her leg, staring at her.