Awakening on Orbis (21 page)

“Oh, no, I don’t believe they could survive outside this environment.”

Honocks certainly sounded like knudniks to me. I couldn’t help but wonder if a Honock ever wished that Space Jumpers hadn’t saved them. I’m sure Max would spend a few cycles trying to find one or two who agreed.

Our flier returned to our original docking station while I was thinking about Max. I saw only one other flier parked next to us, but I couldn’t remember if it was Switzer’s craft or Gora’s. I followed Brine Amar out of the small station and down the posh corridor.

“Your room is down here, two decks below. It will not take you long to learn the layout. It’s one big circle, with most facilities located in or near the center. There is a schematic for you to upload if you like,” he informed me.

Brine Amar paused in front of his door.

“When do I see you again?” I asked him.

“I will find you,” he replied.

“All right. What do I do now?”

“Return to your room. There is someone waiting there for you.”

“For me?” Who was it? Someone I knew? Suddenly I was anxious to find out. I spun around to go, but Brine Amar stopped me.

“JT, excuse me, but could I ask you a favor?”

I turned back around. “Yeah, sure. What do you need?”

“It seems the security access code on my door is not working. Do you think you could use your softwire to allow me entrance?”

“Me?”

“You are a softwire, are you not? I think that task would be quite easy for you.”

“You’re right, it’s just that when most people ask me to help them with my softwire, it’s usually for something illegal.”

“I assure you my intentions are to merely gain access to my room so I may rest until we meet again.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply —”

“You didn’t.”

I approached the door and pushed into the control pad. Once inside the chip, I expected to find something blocking the access sequence, but there was nothing. I simply switched the “access granted” algorithm to
true
and the door disappeared.

“There you go,” I said.

“Your ability must come in handy,” Brine Amar remarked.

“It just gets me in trouble mostly.”

“Well, you helped me, and I thank you.”

“It’s just a door,” I said.

“To you, maybe.”

Nagools certainly were strange creatures. I turned and hurried down the hall, anxious to greet my guests.

“JT!” Brine Amar called out.

What did he want now?

“Yes?” I said, stopping and turning.

“Max is not waiting for you in your room, nor is Theodore, or your sister.”

“How do you know about them?” I asked.

“There is a Space Jumper waiting to begin your training.”

“Oh,” I moaned.

“You’re a Space Jumper now,” he said solemnly as I turned and walked away.

Not yet,
I thought, and took my time going back to my room. Who was I fooling, thinking that my friends where waiting for me in my room?
Split-screen.
The thought of Max and Theodore made me wonder what they were doing. I hoped they were all right. I hoped Max was avoiding Queykay. If only I had some way to know. It might make living on this comet a little easier.

Just as Brine Amar had promised, there was a Space Jumper waiting when I returned.

“Take your time, why don’t ya!” Switzer cried when I walked in. “You kept our new friend waiting. Benas, isn’t it?” Switzer asked as he slapped the Space Jumper on the shoulder. The jumper nodded in reply.

“He’s not much of a talker,” Switzer remarked.

Benas then stepped away from Switzer. I think he must have found Switzer’s familiarity uncomfortable or at least odd. I took a moment to marvel at what Benas was wearing. It was a suit fashioned from a shimmering gray material with the texture of rough concrete. I couldn’t tell if the pieces of metal and leather layered over the suit were decoration or padding. His Space Jumper’s belt hung casually around his waist, but I could see no weapons attached to his body. I liked the leanness of his suit. I wondered if it was his choice.

“You are requested to dine with the others,” Benas announced.

“Food?” Switzer said. “But I thought we would jump right into training. I’m interested to find out what kind of firepower this place holds.”

Benas looked at him. It wasn’t the kind of look friends shared, at least not my friends. “You are many phases away from weaponry training,” Benas scolded him. “If you even make it that far. Pseudos usually don’t last long at the Hollow.”

I wouldn’t say Benas pushed passed me to get to the door, but I honestly believe that if I hadn’t moved, he would have walked right through me.

Switzer stared after him and then said, “Now, what’s that all about?”

“Welcome to my world,” I replied, and followed Benas.

The eating area was the same one Brine Amar had showed me during the orientation. I wasn’t really hungry. Those pills I took to combat the effect of being away from Ketheria always curbed my appetite. They also made it hard to sleep. I figured I should eat something, though. I didn’t know how hard they worked new recruits, so I felt it best to assume I would need my energy.

The food commons was a large open area with individual tables that rose out of the floor, similar to the ones Odran used in his private quarters on Orbis 2. These seating stations, however, were able to move and connect into larger groups. I could see that several of them were now joined and about four dozen Jumpers were seated around the room in various-size groups.

Along one wall, behind the tables, I spotted rows and rows of little latch doors that protected a zillion little compartments of food. The food wall had an eerie similarity to the chow synth on the
Renaissance.
It was another similarity with my past that proved that my whole life had been orchestrated by the Trust.

Switzer had seemed unusually quiet ever since the comments made by Benas. I caught him checking out the other Space Jumpers in the room, and they were checking us out as well. Benas had slipped away the moment we arrived and had linked up with another group. It felt like he didn’t want to be seen with us.

As I walked up to the food wall, a Space Jumper to my left whispered, “Hey, popper.”

“What did you say?” Switzer retorted, but the Space Jumper ignored him and went on talking with his friends.

“This isn’t good,” Switzer grumbled behind me.

“Better get used it,” I said. “This was my life on the
Renaissance
— my
whole
life, for that matter.”

“What I don’t understand is why you put up with it.”

Another Space Jumper whispered, “Pseudos,” as we walked past. Switzer spun around and scanned the crowd for the culprit, but everyone appeared to be minding their own business.

“What was I supposed to do?” I asked him.

“I’ll show you what you were supposed to do.”

Switzer turned and headed toward the largest group of Space Jumpers.

“Switzer, where are you going?”

“Just watch and learn,” he called out.

I followed him but kept my distance. He strolled over to the table and stopped in front of the largest Space Jumper. This was one of those militarized Jumpers, the ones who used every spare inch of his suit to hold some sort of weapon. There were more weapons on the table than there were items to eat. I watched in horror as Switzer reached forward and shoved his fingers into the guy’s food. Then he scooped out a handful of something I would never attempt to eat and shoved it into his mouth.

“Mmmm, that’s good,” he cried with his mouth full. It was loud enough that everyone turned to watch. “Where’d you get that? Mind if I have some more?”

The Space Jumper stared at Switzer as if he had just popped a circuit. When Switzer reached for another scoop, the Space Jumper clamped onto Switzer’s forearm. The guy’s paw was almost as big as Switzer’s arm, and that’s saying something, because Switzer is a big guy.

“Switzer!” I cried, but he didn’t listen. After the Space Jumper clamped onto him, Switzer swung around, his fist clenched, and caught the Jumper right under the chin. The whole room heard the crack. The big Space Jumper fell backward, unconscious. Switzer moved around the table and pushed the guy’s legs away. Then he took his seat. The other Jumpers at the table all stood up, but Switzer ignored them. I think it was the complete lack of fear on Switzer’s face that scared the other Jumpers and thwarted any retaliation on behalf of their friend. They remained motionless, leaning toward Switzer and staring at him.

“What?” Switzer snapped. “He told me he was done. Didn’t you hear him?”

Switzer dove into the guy’s food.

“What’s your name?” one of the Space Jumpers asked.

“Switzer,” he replied. “Do you need me to write that down? Because you should remember it.”

The Jumper did not respond, but he did sit down. Switzer scooped the last little bit of the slop from the plastic bowl and licked his fingers. Then he stood up and said, “Oh, that was good. I have to get some more. You guys want anything while I’m up?”

The rest of the Space Jumpers at the table either shook their heads or grunted, concentrating on their food again. Switzer strolled over to where I was standing and used his fingers to push my chin up, closing my mouth. His fingers were still wet from the guy’s food.

“I think that’s been taken care of,” he whispered.

I followed Switzer to the food wall and asked, “Why that guy? Is it because he was the biggest?”

“No. Have you seen these guys fight? He was the only one I saw whose belt was on the table. I didn’t want him slipping out and popping back up behind me. That’s not a fair fight.” Switzer looked over his shoulder and saw the Space Jumper getting up and returning to his seat. Switzer nodded at the guy, and he returned the nod. “The fact that he was the biggest is just a bonus,” Switzer added.

I grabbed some food behind Switzer — a few things I could recognize — and we sat at a table with some of the other Jumpers. Switzer was already making alliances and starting friendships. As I ate and watched him, I realized that I would never be like him. If we were somehow picked from the same gene pool, then why were we so different? How come he could adapt so quickly to this new world when all I did was resist?

As a couple of Space Jumpers got up to leave, I overheard Switzer making plans with them to meet at Quest-Nest. I just shook my head.

“So I was just supposed to walk up to you on the
Renaissance
and knock your stars out?” I asked. “When we were eight years old?”

“Better than trying it now,” he replied.

After we ate, I was informed by tap that we were to meet with our advisors. I uplinked directions to Quirin’s quarters and then mumbled good-byes to Switzer. For the first time in my life, I found myself craving Switzer’s company. His altercation at mealtime garnered us immediate respect with the other Jumpers, but I knew that the respect afforded me was due to my association with him, not from my own actions. Walking alone left me feeling exposed and I knew there was no way I was going to knock someone out, no matter how effective Switzer made it look.

Fortunately, I made it to Quirin’s without the need to knock someone’s head off and slipped inside his quarters.

“I was pleased to hear of your decision to participate, although I was concerned about your request to include the other human,” he said. His voice seemed to come from every corner of the room.

“That other human is partly my brother, according to you. It was not fair what you did to us. It was the least I could do for him.”

“I had hoped these sentiments would have been erased with your gene therapy.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were not programmed to be so empathetic toward other life-forms. It was a human trait I clearly underestimated. Yet this Randall Switzer, from what I have heard, does not seem to share your feelings for your own kind.”

“What do you mean by
programmed
? You make it sound like I’m some sort machine.”

“In a way you are. Aren’t we all?”

“No.”

“Shall I say
designed,
then? As the Tonat, you will be placed in many situations where your only concern should, and will, be the survival of the Scion. You cannot fight that even if you try. All other life-forms will be of no consequence to you. They simply cannot be. That is why you have difficulty understanding the OIO philosophy. It was part of your design. As much as I believe in the value system, I could not have the questions it raises clouding your decisions.”

“Well, I think there may be some flaws in your design,” I told him.

“Then that is where we will start,” he replied.

The light in the room focused on a point near the center of the floor. A sort of workstation with a seat and a panel of O-dats placed in a semicircle around the metal stool emerged.

“Sit,” Quirin ordered.

As I obeyed, several wires snaked out from points in the wall, or rather from Quirin, that is, and connected with my workstation.

“We must upload traditional Space Jumper protocols into your cortex before physical training can begin. These rules, procedures, and themes are at the core of your studies. I will be uploading large chunks of data, so be prepared. The sooner this is done, the sooner your physical training can begin.”

The O-dats lit up, and I began to feel a little nauseous. Hoping Quirin would not notice, I reached into my pocket and took a tablet, pretending to rub my nose as I slipped it into my mouth.

But Quirin saw it just the same. “You must learn to control that discomfort,” he said. “It is a tool that allows you to physically estimate your distance from the Scion. Masking its effect is not the proper way to master the tool’s important function.”

“Some tool,” I muttered.

“I am placing the files I need you to upload on the terminal in front of you. Please access the computer and install each one in sequence.”

“Wait,” I said. “How is Switzer doing this? He’s not a softwire. I thought you had to be a softwire to be a Space Jumper. Are they doing it with his hardware?”

“The genetic structure for this gift was always within Switzer. The sequence was never initiated, as I found you a much better candidate. Once the genetic coding is manipulated, Switzer will share the same abilities as any other softwire. That is why he survived the jump from Orbis 2. The belt recognized the dormant genes and made a connection with him. Otherwise he would have died.”