Heretics (Stars Edge: Nel Bently Book 4)

by V. S. Holmes

  A gleaming hologram waited, glowing and blank, for the meeting to begin. The sheer number of moving parts that any IDH mission required was staggering.

  “Hey, Dr. Bently.”

  Nel winced and glanced at the young medic, who slipped in just behind her. Their hair was shorn this time, but Nel recalled the benevolent expression as her consciousness swam out of cryosleep. “Hey, ah, Jem, right?”

  “Yeah. Good to see you.” Their dark brows curled in. “I didn’t think you were on the roster for this one.”

  “No, um—”

  Jem nudged her with one of their muscled shoulders. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Gonna grab a seat, though.” They wound through the back rows to find a chair.

  A sharp cough demanded attention. Now that the group had settled down, Nel saw a line of officers standing a step behind a Black woman with a high-ranking badge on her shoulder. The metal rings decorating the collar of her electrosuit were etched in delicate circuits. The name across her breast was Ndebele. Nel frowned. Like the people?

  Her confusion over the head officer’s name dissolved when she caught sight of the man at the end of the line: Harris, with his hands clasped gently in front of him. His officer’s jacket was as starched as the others’ but lacked any colored trim denoting his department. What are you, special ops?

  Dr. Ndebele stepped forward. “Most of you are familiar with our task force officers, and time is of the utmost value. We won’t be wasting time with introductions. Your itineraries should cover most questions, and any others I ask be addressed to your immediate supervising officer. Firstly, let’s address the supernova in the room: we will be going to Earth to attempt to solve the mystery of Samsara. Yes, it will be a dangerous mission and yes, we will be working in collaboration with the organization known as the Founders. Your loyalties to IDH are expected to remain a priority, and our relationship with them is complex. Those antagonizing that relationship or fraternizing with Founders operatives will be disciplined.”

  Tension puckered between Nel’s shoulder blades. Be nice, but not too nice. She didn’t like anyone who demanded loyalty, even under the guise of protecting her home. Besides, if all of their information came from Emilio and his team’s hard work, why did none of them rate an invitation?

  “It has been brought to our attention that a signal—akin to what happened on Samsara—was broadcast at certain locations on Earth. It triggered various tech malfunctions and, unfortunately, several fatalities. While the grid was shut down quickly, we are still uncertain how much this attack has to do with our own mystery.

  “Departure from Odyssey of Earth will commence tomorrow morning at 1200, with prep at 0900. Our departure will coincide with that of our sister task force headed to the Samsari gate to study the event there. And yes, we will indeed be using the technology to shorten our journey.” She held up a hand at the rising murmurs of concern. “The risks and benefits have been examined by our top analysts, including our current senti-comp Philos, and it is not under discussion. If you have concerns, you may apply for transfer to our local team staying on Odyssey.”

  Nel’s pulse thundered in her throat. They were leaving tomorrow? She wasn’t certain how the gate worked or how long it might take, but she didn’t care. Home. I’ll be home soon.

  “Our itinerary on Earth is rudimentary and that is by design—our data from the planet, even with the added information from our new allies, is limited. Our plans may well change, and indeed, I expect them to.” Her finger twitched and the blank projection dissolved into a hologram display of Earth, with dots of light marking places across the globe.

  “Upon touchdown at our newly installed Bakjeeri Aerospace port off the coast of Mumbai, we will board the high-speed rail to Ahmedabad and then travel west via the Trans-Arab rail—”

  “We’re not flying?” A leggy man with a pilot’s badge sprawled in one of the seats in the second row.

  Dr. Ndebele’s features tightened. “As I stated, any concerns should be brought up with your supervisory officer, Kapten Lesu. The new high-speed rails are more reliable and don’t require radio transmission to safely arrive or depart. While I agree it lengthens our mission significantly, speed alone is simply not worth the risk currently inherent in the AV communications required for flight, at least until more data surfaces.”

  Her tone softened only slightly as her attention returned to the room as a whole. “These sites are, interestingly, the locations of our ancestors’ first contact with the Teachers, and where the root of our division with the Founders began. We can all assume this isn’t a coincidence, but the exact reason is one we hope to discover.”

  A dozen points across the globe bloomed brighter. Nel pressed forward, ignoring the glare from the man beside her as she bumped him. I know those.

  KV-H 4, Damnoni IX, the Jefferson cluster. Every site was groundbreaking or controversial and contemporary with one another. All papers she had read. Her eyes stilled on the point along Chile’s coast. Or written. Chills erupted over her body. Perhaps it was because the sheer might of space was a bit difficult to wrap her hard head around, but the scope of IDH never seemed larger. Part of her wanted to punch the air, cheering that so many people had rejected these first attempts at galactic colonialism. Another larger and more spiteful piece wanted to just punch all those who claimed humanity couldn’t have gotten as far as they had without some extraterrestrial involvement. We did, not because of the Teachers, but despite them. All on our very own.

  “Excuse me, Dr. Ndebele, but I feel this is something only you are qualified to answer.”

  The officer’s full lips pursed in displeasure, but she nodded for the young woman to continue.

  “Have we considered the possibility that it is, indeed, the Founders behind this? As many of us can attest, these sites have also been the locations of modern vandalism and guerilla warfare.”

  “Those with more resources specific to those concerns are, indeed, investigating that line of speculation; however, we are operating under the assumption that they are, indeed, our allies in this.” Dr. Ndebele smoothly slipped back into her previous topic. “Our first point of focus will be near Founders’ North African headquarters in Qena, Egypt. Our trajectory will be finalized there, but we intend to visit each point where the signal was released if necessary to examine what evidence there may be as to what happened to cause the blackout and assess the risk of it occurring again.” Her tone implied they were most concerned not with it occurring again on Earth, but rather among IDH’s far-reaching scattered holdings. Murmurs swelled briefly, but her single finger-twitch silenced them. The projection flickered to display a long list of ranks, names, and departments.

  “Any questions regarding roles or our general organization, both for our field task and analysis forces and those remaining here, can be addressed privately.”

  Nel peered closer, scanning the departments.

  Field Task Force

  Intelligence

  Transport

  External Relations

  Internal relations

  Communications

  Technical support

  Medical

  Domestics

  Intelligence

  External Relations

  Communications

  Technical support

  Miscellaneous resources

  There, under the final category, she found her name. Lead slammed her gut. Not only was she barred from returning to Samsara, but she wasn’t leaving Odyssey. Earth was under attack and she was relegated to this glorified moon lightyears away. And my girlfriend gets to go in my place. The buzzing of anger in her ears was louder than even the murmuring crowd. Screw Zachariah’s suggestion to count before opening her mouth, screw the fact that she wasn’t even invited to this special elitist meeting.

  Before her last shred of common sense outweighed her temper, she shoved aside the man beside her. “I’m sorry, Dr. Ndebele, but this has to be a mistake.” />
  Thirty-odd heads turned to stare. Her cheeks were fire, but it was too late to rephrase and certainly too late to keep her mouth shut. Even though she forced her focus not to waver from the chief officer for even a second, her periphery caught the utter horror on Lin’s face.

  Dr. Ndebele’s face hardened in deserved cold fury. “Dr. Bently. I see you’ve decided to join us despite,” her gaze flicked to the security officer at the door, “multiple measures to keep this classified meeting private.”

  “Well apparently that’s just the tip of this exclusionary iceberg since, despite the fact that I ran the excavation on Samsara, I’m apparently listed as nothing more than a ‘miscellaneous resource’. I can’t save my home just ’cause I’m not part of the cool kids’ club?”

  “Due to the unpredictable nature of both this mission and your involvement in the events on Samsara, you are considered temporarily relieved from duty. Were it not for your arguably limited data and experience, I would have shipped you off to a labor station the minute the Thunder-bump docked.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  “Dr. Bently, this is an official briefing,” Dr. Ndebele interjected. “Since you’re incapable of not only remaining professional but following any sort of order, I suggest you step outside.”

  “Oh, I’m capable,” she spat, jaw working. “This whole shitshow just seems about as professional as the average high school yearbook meeting.”

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  Nel shot a last glare at the woman and stalked from the room. Her outburst was childish, and she knew it. And Dr. Ndebele had more than a fair point—this was hardly new behavior. Right now, though, Nel didn’t care. She didn’t care about any brilliant doctor’s opinion of her, even if IDH controlled everything from her mortgage payments to her life support in cryo. Let them fucking disappear me. Nothing matters if I can’t go home.

  Her fury left in a wave of despair and she slumped onto the floor, head thumping back against the gleaming walls. The words cracked over her fear and frustration. “I can’t go home.”

  The door hissed open around the corner and a moment later, Zach settled beside her.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped, “or my feelings.”

  “Didn’t expect you to,” he responded. “Sometimes it’s nice to have company when we sit with our demons. Or our tempers.”

  “Most people don’t like to sit with mine,” she muttered. “Myself included.”

  “Part of my job, archaeology princess.”

  She snorted. “Your nicknames crack me up.”

  He smiled, still politely looking away, twirling his hair. “We could all use creative compliments.”

  “Listen, since you’re going home, do you think—”

  “I don’t know how it’s going to be when we get down there, Nel. But I’ll do my best.”

  “You didn’t even know what I was gonna say.”

  “Make sure your family is okay, right?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s my home too. If it weren’t for my religious teacher sending me a vid-call shortly before blackout, I’d be just as worried.”

  She frowned at her IDH-issue boots. In that moment she hated everything about them. “It’s not just that. It’s all of this. I think I got in over my head chasing a cute chick. Half the time I feel like I got dragged into an inter-planetary mob, you know?”

  He hummed thoughtfully. “I can see how it appears that way. What are you going to do about it?”

  “Don’t know. Not much I can do. Wait and see how things play out. But they’re nuts if they think I’m just going to sit back and watch while my planet and family are threatened.”

  “No one expects you to do nothing—at least, no one in that room who knows you at all. There’s plenty to be done and researched and pieced together without being on the investigative team itself.”

  “Yeah, but seems like anyone who has any say would rather I sit around with my thumb up my ass.”

  “I very much doubt Dr. Ndebele thinks about your ass at all. Letnan Nalawangsa on the other hand—”

  “Hey now,” Nel teased. The expression on Lin’s face flashed through her mind, erasing her warmth. “I don’t even know much about all that either.”

  “Still a commitment-phobe?”

  “Still a therapist?”

  He chuckled. “You’re filled with a lot of questions, Nel. Good ones. Important ones.” He rose with a sigh. “Just make sure you’re asking the right people, alright?”

  Nel watched him disappear back down the hall. Between Zachariah and Phil, she was starting to feel like everyone was in on some big secrets and just expected her to discover the answers on her own. Maybe that’s the ticket to the cool kids’ club. Gotta solve the newest boxcar mystery.

  When the meeting let out, Lin trailed the cluster of officers. Her lips were a thin line.

  Nel shoved herself to her feet, wiping sweaty palms on her legs. “Hey.”

  “I cannot believe you!” Lin hissed. “Sneaking into a meeting is one thing, but you made a total ass of yourself—both of us, actually. And you completely missed the local mission details.”

  “I wanted to stay—”

  “Well maybe you should have just stayed quiet then!” Lin snapped.

  Nel rocked back on her heels. “I’m sorry, okay? I get it, I fucked up. But I need to be on that ship home. You heard them in there!” she protested. “That’s my planet on the chopping block, you know.”

  “We’re from there too, Nel, and we share the same species, as much as you like to pretend we don't. And the losses on Samsara were ours.”

  Nel looked away. She always hated the “boys are from Mars” joke, but it seemed she was spinning a parallel falsehood each time she distanced herself from Lin’s community. Organization. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I think I’m just really amped up. Between missing my mom and everything that’s going on—both like big picture and in my head.” She heaved a sigh. She couldn’t shake the image of Paul’s skin bubbling in Samsara’s corrosive atmosphere. “I’ll be helpful, I’m just really fucked up lately. I was framed for your crimes. Signed away two years of consciousness. I wasn’t close to Paul, but we were friendly. And he was my responsibility.”

  “We’re not saying those sacrifices don’t take a toll. They absolutely do. What we’re saying is you need to recover—”

  “We,” Nel intoned.

  Lin glanced over, then at her shoes. One lithe shoulder lifted. “Yeah. Me too. Me maybe most of all.”

  “You broke me out of detainment, Lin. You admitted that maybe you were too trusting.”

  She closed the distance between them, but only to hiss, “They are all we’ve got right now and at least they approach it rationally. You’re reckless on a good day.” Lin stepped back, reserved features awash with disappointment. “And this really isn’t a good day.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been an asshole.” The frantic fight bled from her body, leaving embarrassment and confusion. Both pissed her off almost more than her lack of agency. “Can I see you tonight? If you’re leaving tomorrow—”

  Lin flinched, raking a shaking hand through her black hair. “I can’t even think about that right now. I have to go get my health scan.” She disappeared without another word.

  Before anyone more official could appear and—rightfully—embarrass her further, Nel found the nearest service elevator and palmed it open.

  When the doors opened it was onto the sweet air of the core. She stepped into the forest, breathing deeply. She strolled through the densely packed ferns, moving from cloud forest to scrub jungle to high desert. Even there, organisms flourished. Her hand pressed into the coarse sand. Did they make it? Bring it from Earth? Mine it from some asteroid? Pain pinched at her chest at the thought of Paul’s mining family.

  Tiny insects crawled over the grains and she watched the floor teem with life as night fell. Her eyes inc
hed upward to the dimly glowing orb suspended high above. The senti-comp had been eerily quiet since the events on Samsara, following the order for radio silence like the rest of them. Did you find what you were looking for?

  “Hey, Phil, you home?” Her voice boomed in the quiet biome, and she glanced across to the bubble of the function hall emerging from the jungle biome. It was far enough away that it was hardly more than a glimmer, a silver dollar on the manufactured horizon.

  Her wrist flashed and she scanned the message.

  “Evening, Dr. Bently.”

  She grinned. “Do you think I can stop by before we leave?”

  “I’m using more processing than usual, and I fear even the increase in temperature from your biological form will impact my cooling system.”

  “You could have just said you were busy,” she teased.

  “I have as many processing units as most of those on Earth combined, Doctor. I don’t really get busy.”

  “I wanted to see how you were. If you’d made any headway.” The pause was lengthy, exponentially longer than it would take a supercomputer to consider his words.

  “This puzzle is complex. And I fear each answer uncovers worse news. But yes. I am making headway. If I can hardline to other senti-comps it will be easier. And how are you doing?”

  “I know you could just scan Zachariah’s notes.”

  That’d be rude.

  “Okay, I guess. Tired. Frustrated. Homesick. Can I help at all?”

  Not in this particular moment. But soon. There is something for you to do—not for me, but for yourself.

  She glanced up, as if he could see her gaze from there. Maybe he could. “Yeah?”

  You’ve been lonely before.

  She frowned. It was an odd statement, one more intimate than she felt their relationship warranted. Dread weighed her stomach, churning with the starshine. “This more of your pattern-recognition pre-cog shit?”

  Pay attention—you will feel more alone than you have in a very long time. Isolated. Without allies. But you won’t be.

  “You gotta give me more.”