Aimee hesitated and looked up at the windows and quickly rushed to each one to turn off the screens. She pivoted back towards JOH and nearly collided with him as he floated in her wake. She grabbed his frame and hoisted it up in the air so that now his face hovered even with hers.
"Now it's my turn," she whispered. "Tell me where I am."
JOH's eyes widened. "The Horus."
"I know that." She grew impatient, fearing Raja would return and interrupt. "What is the Horus? Where is it in relationship to my planet? Who are the people on this ship? Where do they come from? When can I go back home?"
JOH's mouth opened and closed several times. "I asked you one question, Aim-eeeeeeee."
Could computers pout?
"I must re-sort your questions into a chronological sequence in order to answer them adequately. What are the people on this ship? Where do they come from? What is the Horus? Where is it in relationship to my planet? When can I go back home?" JOH paused and his smile returned. "May I proceed in this order?"
Using the strange utensil, Aimee shoved in a mouthful of crup as she nodded. “Please.”
“You call yourself, human.” JOH began. “You think that your race is exclusive to your planet. What you call human, we call mecaws.”
“Mecaws?” She tested out the word. “I had wondered why everyone looked human and not like a big green squid or something.”
“They look mecaw, not human.”
Aimee nearly laughed at his indignance.
“Okay, so mecaws are not exclusive to Earth. Where else can you find them?”
JOH snorted. “Where can’t you find them is the more appropriate question. They may differ from planet to planet. Some have contrasting compositions—blood, you call it. But they all look pretty similar. To me at least.”
“Of course, there are planets with big green squids on them too," he was quick to add. "I don’t know what a big green squid is, but I imagine you have encountered other terrestrial beings then."
JOH did not wait for her affirmation. He continued.
"The mecaws on this ship come from a planet called Anthum." JOH's face dissolved as another orb filled the screen. It was a green planet resplendent with dark patches of water and wispy white swirls, so achingly similar to Earth. Another image flashed of a temple with columns of black marble and stairs of the same ore. A waterfall trickled down the center of the stairway, and exotic plant life flanked the water. At the top of the temple, a globe of the same coloring was suspended by golden streamers, like a giant marbleized piñata.
Another picture appeared. A family stood in a courtyard lined with trees. Sun beams poured through the branches to score the attractive faces of a man, woman, and female toddler. The females were dressed in white gowns and the man wore a white body suit illuminated by the wayward rays.
"Anthum," JOH filled the frame, shattering the serene scene. "It still looks like that. The buildings stand tall, but there are no people left to inhabit them."
"Why?" Aimee frowned.
"Wait, I'm calculating a time translation." The way JOH's face crinkled, it looked more like he had gas. "About thirty orbits of your planet ago the citizens of Anthum became ill. A disease spread quickly. Scientists determined that it originated from a plant used in their diet, but by that time the illness had already adapted into a contagion. There was an island region of the planet that had yet to fall ill, but it was a matter of time before the plague reached their shores. The island inhabited many of our scientists and exploration masters. Work was underway to build a craft capable of spending endless revolutions in space for exploration. It became a race to complete that ship in hopes of getting the island's dwellers into space before the disease could claim them too."
Aimee leaned forward, rapt by the tale. "They got away? That ship was the Horus?"
JOH smiled. "Yes. Initially there was great sadness over the loss of their planet. Their people. Then there was panic. What if someone contaminated had made it on board? Scientists created the suit that you are wearing to monitor the internal organs of the Anthumians. If the disease is present, your organs will light up with a red glow rather than the yellow shade of normal failure."
Aimee glanced down at her abdomen. It remained blissfully silver.
"Currently, the Horus travels the galaxies in search of a cure for the disease so that the Anthumians can return home. We retrieve plant life from every planet in a quest for an antidote."
"But you retrieve more than just plants," she interrupted. "You pick up people."
JOH's mouth thinned. "You were a mistake, Aimee. Some children of the original scientists fancy themselves experts in the craft. These rogue offspring may be as dangerous to us as the disease itself."
The ominous ring of that statement left Aimee feeling anxious. She was alone. Far from home on a ship that could harbor a plague that destroyed an entire race.
"You are safe, Aimee." JOH read her expression.
How interesting that a computer could read emotions and offer empathy.
"There were two more questions," she reminded.
"In terms that you would use, the Horus is about 6,790 light years away from your planet, and heading away from it at a very swift pace."
"Why are you heading away?" Aimee gulped. "Why can't you go back if you move so fast?"
"Revolutions, Aimee. Everything in space moves in revolutions. You can't go against it. We reach Earth's galaxy every five orbits of your planet. That isn't long at all."
"Five years is very long!"
"Years. Right. You call them years." JOH blinked and added the word to his databank.
"So that is the answer to my last question," she added feebly. "I can't go home for another five years?"
Maybe there was some legitimacy to what JOH was saying, but she didn't buy it. If they could make vessels like the Horus, they could fly her back home...now.
"Aimee, your planet has already completed half a quarter revolution."
Her jaw dropped. "What? I've only been here a couple of days."
"Days." He tested the word out. "Time as you know it works different in space. We have travelled a great distance in what may seem a short time to you. Let me see if I can translate some numbers you may identify with. If my data proves correct, your planet has a distance of measure called a kilometer?"
Aimee bobbed her head.
“The galaxy we are about to enter is approximately 64,000,000,000,000,000 kilometers away from Earth. The Horus travels that distance very quickly, but consider how much of your time must have passed back on Earth while we were making that journey.”
A quarter orbit. Ninety days. Her parents must have assumed she was dead by now. Her friends had moved on. College had started.
She had missed her eighteenth birthday.
Aimee lifted her hands to her face and started to cry.
Chapter Five
Unable to take anymore, Aimee shoved JOH away. After a period of self-wallowing, she began to pace and narrowed her eyes at the black windows. When activated, they revealed only the interior of the ship, and she wanted to see outside. Claustrophobia wrapped around her throat like an anaconda. Within this narrow white chamber she could not get a proper grasp of her plight. She needed to get out.
Aimee rose and stepped up to the section of the wall that Raja had passed through. Lifting her hand, she waved it over her head. Nothing. She tried to emulate Raja’s casual flick of the wrist. Nothing. She took a step to her left and repeated the motion, and then to her right. Frustrated, she threw both her hands in the air and crisscrossed them back and forth. Nothing.
She stuck her tongue out at the wall.
It opened.
With her head down, Aimee shouldered past the aide that had most likely opened the door from the outside.
Within the Bio Ward, she retraced her steps down the aisle of beds, conscious of the inquisitive glances of both patients and physicians. Raja was nowhere to be found so Aimee darted back to where she remembere
d the horizontal elevator being located. Rather than draw attention by flapping her hands frantically at the wall, she was relieved to arrive just as a couple stepped through. They cast a brief glimpse at her, but continued on. With the exception of her dark hair, in her silver-skinned suit she could walk unnoticed amongst them.
Longing for the traction of her sneakers as opposed to the slippery soles of these boots, Aimee cast one final glimpse in each direction. She jogged a few steps and darted into the open compartment.
The wall sealed, securing her inside the ten square-foot space like the closing walls of a trash compactor. Think, Aimee. She stared at the panel of lights, uncertain which sequence prompted the vessel into action. What had Chara touched? Aimee had watched her, but was so too overwhelmed to focus on the details.
She wouldn't make that mistake again.
Deep breath.
If 90 days had truly passed already, she should be starting her Engineering Fundamentals class at NC State any day now. This circuitry panel would serve as a preliminary exam. If she could master these alien electronics, surely she could pass the class.
It was not heat-activated, nor was it triggered by a simple swipe of the hand as other facets of the ship. Logic dictated that randomly pressing buttons could result in unpleasant, if not deadly repercussions. A bank of illuminated controls. Three sets of three. Each set consisting of blue, purple, and green lights. Though she was completely boxed in, she knew that three sides of this compartment contained windows somehow triggered to open on demand. The other wall faced the interior of the ship. With brazen confidence she pressed the three blue buttons and the external walls dropped. The tableau made her stumble backwards. The last time she had gazed out these windows the view was occupied by the body of the Koron’s ship.
Now, eternal night hugged her like a black satin sheet.
Focus.
The green buttons beckoned. Green means go.
It couldn't be that simple.
She pressed the vibrant emerald switch on the top row and an overhead light cast a stark glare against the black backdrop. She pressed the knob directly beneath it and tripped a few steps as the cabin revved into motion. There was nothing in the black pocket of space outside to indicate in what direction she was traveling, but she felt the velocity. Before the chamber journeyed too far she chanced tapping the bottom green button. The elevator slowed. Tapping the third blue switch drew the walls back into place, concealing the view. With a sense of empowerment, she pressed the last purple button and the transport halted.
Whew! She had just passed her first engineering test.
Feeling a tad cocky, she waved her hand at the wall and it dissolved into an empty corridor.
She looked at her hand. Wow.
A quick glimpse in each direction revealed that the coast was clear. She jogged towards the right because right was always right.
The lust to escape had waned and the reality that she had no clue where she was settled in. The iridescent corridor looked conical at both ends as if each way led to obscurity. Aimee scanned the immediate area and felt her knees buckle in relief. She sprinted toward the floating tablet several yards away, snatching it from the air and slamming her palm on it.
“That’s not necessary, Aim-eeeeeee.”
JOH’s black orbs lolled slightly and then fell back into place.
“JOH! Thank God I found you.”
“I have 9022 gods listed in my database. Must I thank all of them?”
Aimee fell back against the wall and laughed because suddenly that was the funniest thing in the world. She was so grateful to see this stupid blue face staring quizzically at her.
“Aim-eeeee, Raja is asking where you are. She is quite desperate.”
“I shouldn’t have run away,” Aimee conceded. “I was just starting to panic.”
JOH’s head squished into a line and then righted itself. “Chara is nearby. She is coming.”
“Are you speaking to them while you’re speaking to me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to keep secrets, JOH?”
“You treat me like I am inferior, Aimee.”
The tone of affront nearly made her chuckle.
“I know what secrets are,” he continued, “and yes, I’ve been motivated to keep one or two. But not many.”
“Fair enough. I don’t want to hide right now,” she rationalized. “I am lonely, and I am afraid.”
“Aimee—”
Aimee jumped at the gentle touch on her shoulder. She pivoted and fell under the spell of Chara’s sloe-shaped eyes. There was empathy in that gaze. And the soft curve of shiny lips made Aimee feel she was in the presence of a benevolent deity.
“Aimee,” Chara started again, “I know you are afraid and overwhelmed by everything that has happened to you. I cannot offer you false promises of returning home swiftly, but I can assure you that you are safe and you are with good people. It is the best we can propose right now.”
Some of the tension left Aimee’s shoulders. “I acted a bit irrationally, didn’t I?”
Chara smiled. “You did nothing that I would not do if I found myself alone on your planet.”
When it was put that way, Aimee had to agree.
“Come this way,” Chara beckoned, leaving the floating JOH behind only to pass another one twenty feet later. “You are just in time to catch the young ones practicing.”
“Practicing what?”
Ahead the deceptively conical corridor broadened into an arch similar to the one that marked the entrance to the assembly hall. This arch was crafted with artwork of industrious people in fanciful gardens fenced by vine-laced pillars. Aimee hesitated under the broad portico, studying the figures. Initially it looked like ancient Greece, but there was a modern element to the imageries. Some people stood atop roaring streams on mystically suspended bridges. Others hunkered over small crafts the likes of which she had never seen. One wore a crown with rays shooting from its rim.
“Aimee.” Chara waited a few steps ahead.
Aimee blinked and followed Chara into an undersized version of the auditorium she had been in this morning. It was empty except for a group of ten to fifteen children all dressed in petite silver bodysuits. They varied in age from as young as five years, to as old as maybe eleven or twelve. An awkward screech filled the chamber. The echo of that semi-melodic noise rumbled in the dark corners of the amphitheater.
As she approached the group she discovered that they were playing musical devices—instruments that resembled an alto clarinet. Shiny. Gold-plated. These shafts had tiny holes bored through them and a tube that flared at the bottom. The holes seemed ridiculously small. No wonder they produced the off-key chorus of squeaks. Aimee winced as the child closest to her filled his cheeks up and blew for all he was worth, producing a hellish peal that fell into a wobbly, but solid note. She couldn't resist. She applauded his efforts by clapping. His whole face either turned red from embarrassment or effort, but he gave her a bashful smile and peeked at her from under long blond bangs. She estimated that the child was about nine or ten years old.
Curious, Aimee smiled back and asked, "Can I try it?"
Green-flecked eyes widened and he held the instrument out at her, casting a quick glimpse towards Chara for approval. In her periphery she saw Chara nod.
"What's your name?" Aimee asked as she gripped the tube, still warm from his hands.
"Gordy," he mumbled.
"Gordy?" she repeated. "That's an awesome name."
His smile grew.
"That's not his name." A slightly older girl spoke out. Her hands were planted on her slim hips and long tawny hair was tossed back over her shoulder. "His name is Gordeelum. When he was little he could only say Gordee."
Gordy looked down at his silver boots, embarrassed.
"Are you his sister?" Aimee asked.
"I am." The girl stood straight, her hands still on her hips.
Aimee stifled a snort. Girls don't change no matter w
hat galaxy you are in.
"Who are you?" The sister challenged. "I don't recognize you. You look like you're from that last planet we stopped at. They were all tall too."
Aimee frowned and glanced at Chara. "How is it that everyone speaks my language?"
"JOH enacted the system-wide translation program the day you came on board. It's common practice with visiting dignitaries. Consider it an honor."
"What if someone more important than me shows up?" Hah, that sounded hysterical.
Chara sat down in one of the sphere-shaped chairs and draped her hands atop her crossed legs. "Then JOH will have you go through the translation program."
"Oh right. I'm going to learn an alien language in a matter of minutes."
Chara didn't flinch. "Yes. You will. The words are fed to us electronically from our uniforms."
Aimee frowned. “So if you don’t have the uniform on you would not be able to speak to me?”
Chara smiled. “We retain what we have been fed. The translation stays in us. We’re pretty quick as you might say.”
"So, are you?" The girl demanded, interrupting their conversation. "From Sureen?"
"No." Aimee shook her head. "I'm from a planet called Earth."
"Hmmph," she frowned. "Never heard of it. Whatever. As you can see, Gordy can't learn how to play the Tak wand. He's hopeless."
The Tak wand, Aimee mouthed and then looked at Gordy who still stared at his feet.
"What's your name?" Aimee asked the girl.
"Wanza." Her chin tipped up.
"Nice to meet you, Wanza."
Aimee returned her attention to the Tak wand. Those holes were tight. Nothing more than glorified pinpricks. Couldn't they give kids on this ship something easier to start with?
The mouthpiece did not have a reed—the thin slab of wood affixed to the air hole that gave it the vintage woodwind sound. Instead, this mouthpiece was carved into something resembling a fishhook. Aimee slipped it between her lips and affixed her fingers over the center hole. The closest she could liken to the note, G. She tightened her lips and gave a brief puff of air. A melodic chord came out of the instrument. It staggered her because she was used to the sound of the clarinet, which in her mind was as symphonic as a goose with gas.
Beyond : Series Bundle (9781311505637) Page 5
