Authors: Brenda Cooper
“I crashed.”
He pulled her close to him and held her. “You’ll get it. You have to relax more. It’s not possible to keep it all in the front of your brain; you have to let go and trust your subconscious enough to let it handle the hard parts.”
She had a frustrated edge to her voice. “I can’t. I get all tangled up.”
They had been flying a simulated version of
Creator
. I don’t know how many times they’d tried since I didn’t watch him work with her every day, but she always crashed. He had trouble teaching her things that came like breathing to him. But he stayed patient. “You’ll get it. If you ever have to fly a real ship, you’ll do fine.”
The look on her face suggested she didn’t believe him. Neither of them much liked these lessons. Sometimes I had to tease Joseph for hours afterward to get him laughing. Kayleen tried hard, but Reading the Wind so deep scared her. I knew; I’d been an invisible fly on the wall by accident once, when she cried in Chelo’s arms and wished all her powers away.
A gentle warning beeped in my ear for the second time. I only had a few minutes before the mod failed for lack of power and needed me to move and charge it. I tried to stop everything but breathing to make it last.
Joseph pulled Kayleen up and held her to him, and though they didn’t say anything I’d have bet they were talking anyway. I wanted that; to be so close to him I could talk inside his head and hear him inside mine. At one point, he looked right at the bit of wall I leaned against, and I wondered what I often wondered: Did he always know where I was in spite of my invisibility? Did the data that made me invisible to the eye betray me to him and Kayleen?
He looked away quickly.
They went through the door before my mod gave out, and I breathed a great sigh of relief and let the mod turn off, leaning back against the wall for a few long breaths before I stood and slipped through the door, rewarded with an empty corridor. Still, I walked for a bit, stepping quietly, turning and turning. I knew
Creator
like no one but Joseph did, and maybe Kayleen. Down near the back, there were holds half-full of stuff from home. I worked my way along two outer corridors, the slow movement enough to give some charge to the magic that transformed my skin to a mirror. As I went back and back, I grew lighter, approaching the half-gravity of the cargo area. Enough to hold everything in place, not much more.
I undogged the hatch of my favorite hold: the biggest one. Inside, the walls were lined with boxes and crates full of art made by the roving scientists called roamers. The art didn’t matter—nothing from Fremont did. I was glad to be rid of the place. What mattered was the space.
Most of
Creator
was corridors and small rooms or packed cargo holds. Or the shared workout room, where anyone might be.
I stood in the middle and bowed to the openness, fully visible. A ritual: me showing off for myself. Then I leapt, the lightness making me feel like I could fly. I leapt and leapt again, each jump taking me a little higher, and then I leapt into the wall and pushed off, the thrust of my legs giving me more height, enough to reach a pile of boxes strong enough to land on. I crouched, for just a moment. Like a butterfly might. I went again, going up and down and across, extending my arms and find the far wall. I had to push hard enough each time—even in half gravity it was possible to fall. I made it all the way to the ceiling, barely breathing hard, and came back down the same way.
I imagined people watching me. Joseph clapping. The children. I imagined people liking my strength and my power instead of chastising me for it. I didn’t want a real audience. But I wanted this one, the one in my head. It made me jump faster.
I did the whole routine two more times, still visible, Alicia the flying girl.
Then I turned on my mod, now more fully charged, and did the
cargo dance again, up and up and up, pushing and extending and almost falling. Alicia the invisible girl.
At the top, I had to be extremely careful not to fall.
I loved that feeling.
D
ocking with a space station is nothing like leaving a planet. Liam and Kayleen and I sat with the kids in the cramped space of our room, playing word games with the children, when Joseph stopped by, followed by his shadow, the dog he’d named after my friend Sasha. He greeted the children and kissed me on the forehead. “We’re getting near the station. You should sit down in case we need to do anything, but I’m pretty sure we won’t be flying her in—it should be automatic.”
Kayleen, beside me, tensed. Fear flashed across her face. I took her hand and squeezed hard, telling her to be strong.
“Do we need to strap in?” Liam asked, and I shuddered at the idea, remembering how confined the takeoff had felt.
“No—but sit down and hold onto the children. Can I leave you Sasha?”
“Of course.” After Joseph, I was Sasha’s second favorite, and she quickly curled around my feet, her tail thumping.
Kayleen left with him, so I sat with Jherrel in my arms, and Liam beside me, and Paloma, Kayleen’s adoptive mother, beside Liam. Caro leaned back against Liam, laughing, the way she always laughed in his arms. A daddy’s girl, so at home with him it made me hate my father’s death yet again. In front of us, a vid screen pretended to be a window and showed us Marcus’s secret destination: Jillian May Station.
I wanted sky above my head and the ability to ride across open
plains, grass tickling the bottoms of my feet and the air smelling of grass-flowers and mice, of the Lace River and rich dirt. I wanted my son, Jherrel, strapped behind me, and Liam and Caro and Kayleen alongside and nothing else. Joseph, of course, but he would hate such a life. I didn’t care if I never saw this, or any other, starship again. But, of course, that would be too much to hope for.
The space station we were approaching clearly had no open spaces. The secret destination Joseph’s mysterious Marcus had sent us to actually looked like a pile of space ships left in the void, sort of like hebras left piles of poop on the plains, or paw-cats piles of bones by a trail. Ugly, yet organic.
A few days ago, when
Creator
had finally admitted our destination to Joseph, we’d learned Jillian May served as a transport stop and cargo hub for the Five Worlds, and would have ships coming and going regularly. Paloma had paced nervously and then blurted out a question. “Won’t whoever is looking for Joseph be watching?”
Jenna replied, “There are more space ships in the Five Worlds than stars in Fremont’s sky.”
Joseph smiled. “I trust Marcus.”
I didn’t know this man who had earned my brother’s loyalty, but I did understand Paloma’s worry.
As we neared the station,
Creator
shrank. The pile of space ships resolved further to look like a silver pole festooned with charms. Then the charms turned to ships and the pole was clearly taller than any of the volcanoes on Islandia. Almost every ship here was larger than our guild halls, some by a factor of hundreds, and almost all bigger than
Creator
. How was my little family supposed to maneuver in a place so vast? I squeezed Liam’s hand. “What if we get there, and one of us makes a wrong turn, and we never find each other again?”
Liam placed an arm around me, pulling me in close, smelling like worry and love. “You are supposed to be the positive one.”
“I know.” And so I let a small prayer touch my lips.
Let me keep this man by my side always
. “To hold us all together, I have to worry.”
As we slid between two huge ships, Jherrel squirmed on my lap and burbled. “Big ship! Big ship,” and I saw the ghost of Joseph in him, and clutched him to me. He was too young to leave now, but like Joseph,
he’d far surpass me some day. And he would leave. Parents should not have to think about that before their babies are too big to carry.
I held Jherrel close and snuggled closer to Liam and Paloma. Caro climbed on top of us, queen of her hill of people.
Creator
rocked once, gently, and then stopped. The screen went dark.
A few moments later, Joseph came and stood next to me, his eyes shiny and excited.
“How will you find Marcus?” I asked him.
His grin widened. “He already found me.” He practically bounced as he stood there. “He’s coming. You’re going to love him, Sis. You will.”
I hoped so.
“Are you ready?”
“Sure,” Liam said.
“Be careful—it’s just over half the gravity you’re used to.”
We followed Joseph down a corridor and then up an elevator, and then through a round coupling with a thin walkway between us and Jillian May. Being lighter made me feel as if I’d drunk too much beer, even though there’d been none on
Creator
.
At the far end a slender man waited. He looked taller than he had on the video. I expected Joseph to race to him, but my brother hung back beside me and watched Jenna approach Marcus like a moth drawn to a candle. She stood on tiptoes and Marcus lifted her and kissed her deeply and almost reverently.
And for a long time.
Jenna, who didn’t trust anyone when she was the wild woman of Fremont.
I blinked, watching the fall of her hair and the way his arm curled around her and how they seemed to fit together, and it made me want to gather Kayleen and Liam to me. Kayleen looked as openmouthed as I did, and then leaned into Joseph. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
A small smile touched the corners of his mouth. “It’s her story to tell.”
Kayleen frowned. “She never tells us anything.”
Then Marcus was dishing out hugs to Jenna’s sister, Tiala, and Dianne. Both women seemed to hold onto him a long time, and Dianne
held on so long I wondered what the rules were here. On Fremont, Liam and I and Kayleen were the only group of three I knew of, and even then we’d have never have become a family if we hadn’t been alone in the wilds for a year with no expectation of rescue. I couldn’t quite decide whether to be fascinated or repelled.
Alicia and Induan approached him next, fully visible with no sign of their strange ability. Rather, they were solid and sure of themselves, dark Alicia and blond Induan. He shook hands with them, gave them short but warm hugs, straightening quickly to look at the rest of us. When his eyes met Joseph’s, his face looked as if a sun had bloomed near it, but he stayed where he was, a one-man greeting line. You’d think we were attending a party instead of a space rescue.
Dark-haired and smooth-moving Ming came up next, standing silently in front of Marcus while he regarded her in equal silence. The other women stopped and watched, too, and Joseph visibly tensed. I knew a little of Ming’s story, how she’d worked for the Port Authority and yet helped Jenna and Joseph and the others escape from custody when they first got there, and then, in the end, run away from the Port Authority and joined Joseph’s crew by stowing away. She was a bodyguard and a dancer, and somehow made it look normal to be both. Once, she had been Marcus’s student.
They were silent so long I thought neither of them was going to move.
Marcus broke first, his eyes and facial features softening visibly even though I was twenty feet away from him. His arms opened until she stepped forward and filled them. It wasn’t a long hug, about what he gave Alicia and Induan, but even from a distance it looked like tension ran off of them both, as if they became lighter by touching. The moment passed. Ming danced away, literally light on her feet.
Our turn.
He came over to us, and he looked at me instead of Joseph. He searched my eyes, my face, my whole body, and then looked back and forth between me and Joseph. In my arms, Jherrel stilled as well, regarding Marcus as silently as I did. Liam stepped close to me and put his free arm around my shoulder. Marcus’s eyes were the most
amazing color I had ever seen, bright green with flecks of gold and silver, and they seemed to be drinking in my very soul. His voice sounded soft and sure. “Chelo Lee. The sister worth a war.”
I waited for him to explain.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he smiled, and I smiled back, and Jherrel reached toward him and Marcus took him from my arms and held him, smiling like all people smile at toddlers, but also seeming to look for something more. The moment to ask about his comment was gone. But I’d remember.
Marcus glanced at Sasha, at Joseph, and then at the dog again. Joseph looked uncertain, and starved, and I realized then how much he needed this man. A quirky smile touched Marcus’s lips, but then he handed me back my child and held my brother. Joseph’s face relaxed, and for a moment he looked younger than I’d seen him since he came back to Fremont for me. The two of them could have been a father and son. It showed in both of their faces, trust and regard, a bond so close it made me nervous even though it felt good to see Joseph happy.
Feet scraping on metal reminded me we weren’t entirely alone. Strangers dressed all in gray clothes with black pockets began unloading our cargo.
I didn’t have time to get lost on the station.
In no more than twenty minutes we were climbing into yet another starship—this one at least five times bigger than
Creator
. It was also rougher: the floor and some walls were scratched and dented. Layers of yellow and green paint peeled from high-impact corners.
The extra room would be good for the kids. At two and a half and two and a quarter, they had become racers and leapers, and both now needed two modified maintenance bots to keep them even a little safe. Luckily, the bots from
Creator
had stuck at the children’s heels the way Sasha stuck to Joseph.
Gray-suited people roamed the halls carrying things, but other people looked regularly dressed. We turned and climbed up or down enough times that I felt lost before Marcus finally stopped in a big room full of cushioned chairs with straps. I grimaced as I recognized acceleration couches. “Are we leaving?” Liam asked.
Marcus nodded. “Welcome aboard. This is the
Migrator
, a cargo
ship which will be departing in about an hour. Clearly you got one of my messages, since you arrived here.”