Meru, p.25
Meru, page 25
Zie shifted and felt the gentle tug of an umbilical against zir belly. Life itself flowed through it into zir body. Zie took a deep breath and felt zir lungs swell with water. Zir heart beat at its usual rate. Zir flesh had lost its parched, stretched state.
A local network nudged zir mind, and zie thought-accepted its offer to connect. It held some basic information about zir location as well as a spool of news and a standard knowledge pedia. Where am I? had a straightforward answer: in orbit around a gas giant named Kumuda in the Pamir System, about two hundred light-years from the Solar System.
“I’m awake,” zie sent.
Nakis looked up the meaning of hibernation. As the words flashed into sight, zie remembered: zie had met an ancient construct named Karkothaka. They had helped each other, and then zir body had begun to shut down. There was a face . . . beautiful but strange . . . human. A woman who held zir as zie entered the long sleep.
That didn’t make any sense. Humans couldn’t live in space, and they were tiny. Zie blamed zir confusion on the hibernation until zie saw the status reports from zir bodym: extensive radiation burns on zir skin; corruption of massive sections of zir extended memory; damage to zir power conduits; physical injury to zir tail, left wing, and organic brain. By the Nivid! What part of zir body hadn’t suffered? What had zie done to zirself?
No wonder zie couldn’t remember anything about zir circumstances. That explained why zie had gone into hibernation—zie had gotten injured, as zie had so many times before. Had it happened at Luna? No . . . zie had a recollection of leaving the moon for . . . somewhere else. Then it came back to zir: a school for pilots! But what was it called? And what had happened there that led zir to this system that zie had never heard of?
The local network alerted zir to another message, a recording from Karkothaka. The construct said that he’d built an exoskeletal brace for zir broken tail that might allow zir to vent from zir lower body again. That seemed promising. The previous message, the one asking zir to wake, came from an unknown sender. Perhaps that stranger knew more about zir circumstances.
Zir sight and phores resumed last. Zie opened zir lids and resolved the view in front of zir: the familiar contours of an orbital berth frame, and behind it a pale-blue planet swirling with gaseous clouds. Zie turned zir head. The golden coils of Karkothaka were nowhere to be seen. Instead, a pair of dark-brown hands guided a tube into Nakis’s mouth. Zie sucked in and tasted a spiced bhojya with flavors of cinnamon, cumin, and fennel. As zie drank, zie felt the hands rotate zir body. Zie came face-to-face with a strange alloy, a pilot—like myself. I am a pilot!—judging by their size and shape.
They had a square-jawed face with a wide, flat nose and long, dark eyes. Deep-purple streaks along their torso and tail cut through gray-brown skin. Phores dotted their cheeks, neck, and arms, and teardrop-shaped wings covered in golden cells flanked their body. Nakis had a flash of memory: zir friend telling zir about the greatest microgravity racing pilot of their time, an alloy with purple stripes and gold wings. People had nicknamed him The Royal because of the combination. Surely there had to be plenty of pilots with that coloring?
Zie slow-blinked to see their identifying information. Along with the usual items—name, gender identities, genetic lineage, areas of expertise—there was a list of accomplishments: competitive microgravity flier, twelve-time winner of the Jupiter Grand Prix, Solar System Heliosphere Circuit record holder. So it was him!
Nakis nodded.
So zie had hibernated for at least that long.
Nakis nodded. “I looked it up,” zie sent, not trying zir phores just yet.
Zie shook zir head in the negative. “My memory is spotty. Extended memories are gone.”
Rithu glowed in sympathy.
Zie shook zir head again. “What I remember . . . it happened long ago, and I can’t think of any names, not even my own.”
Rithu frowned.
Rithu moved aside to his own berth and pulled up the barrier between them. He must have lowered it in order to tend to Nakis. Someone else had shared a berth with zir like that at . . . at . . . but the thought wouldn’t complete. The phores on zir arms flashed with frustration. Zie could distinctly recall zir friend telling zir about The Royal, zir friend who . . . also wanted to be a racer! Zie could picture zir: blue-gray skin, hazel-green eyes, silver-black wings, but why couldn’t zie remember zir name? By the Nivid, zie had so many holes in zir memory!
Nakis pinched off the bhojya tube with more force than necessary and attached it to the frame. Their orbital platform was spacious enough for a larger group. Consisting mostly of metal scaffolding, it held observational equipment as well as six comfortable-looking berths, though all but zirs and Rithu’s were unoccupied. A solid area in the center had several storage compartments, and antennae jutted from the platform’s corners. Beyond their output, zie saw nothing but Pamir’s glare and Kumuda’s bright azure reflection. Not a single dark speck to indicate the presence of a padhran or any other people in their vicinity.
Zie extended zir arms and tried to flash
Zie had a chance to make a fresh start at Kumuda, at least until zir past caught up with zir. Perhaps it never would. Perhaps zie had finished whatever zie came to this system for. Or . . . another thought arrived, one that had terrible implications. What if zie had done this to zirself? What if zie had wanted to die?
Nakis shuddered and pushed the idea away. If that’s what happened, then I’m glad I’ve forgotten who I was. I’m not that person anymore. Judging by the state of zir body, zie would never fulfill zir maker’s design anyway. Zie might as well invent a new identity for zirself until someone informed zir otherwise.
Zie created a new public record, filled in zir pronouns, and set zir name to Nakis. Zie left the lineage and expertise portions blank. In zir current state, zie couldn’t call zirself a pilot, and zie couldn’t think of any other useful skills zie possessed.
Zie sent the information to Rithu. “If I think of my real name—or anything else useful—I’ll let you know.”
“Welcome to my humble abode, Nakis,” the pilot replied. “I have to leave shortly to do some work, but I’ll be back in half a kaal. Don’t go anywhere.” Amusement colored his final words.
“Thank you for all your help,” Nakis replied with sincere gratitude. Zie watched as the other alloy gracefully tucked his golden wings along his body and dove toward Kumuda. Trace amounts of water vented along with hydrogen, creating a trail of tiny, sparkling crystals in his wake. The blue light from the planet enhanced the purple streaks on his body.
Why would a microgravity racer like The Royal be sampling atmosphere on the outskirts of the known universe? That was a job almost any pilot could do. Then again, given how little Nakis knew of zirself, who was zie to question someone else’s choices? Now that zir body had some energy, zie reviewed zir extended memory and cross-referenced it with the local knowledge base. Most of it had gotten corrupted by the solar CME event, but zie found a few items intact, including two spoken human languages—Precompact Japanese and Modern Sanskrit—as well as an episode of a show called Across the Orbit. There were some images from a trip to the Sun where zie looked quite young and floated beside zir maker. Zie had several recordings labeled as lectures on reality transits and microgravity maneuvers. And zie had a recording marked J_emotions. Zie replayed it.
A human stood in a pilot’s chamber—zir own?—and contorted her face, labeling each with an emotional state. Zie recognized her! This was the person who had held zir as zie dropped off into hibernation. Except this looked real, and she had a proper human size. Had zie ferried her somewhere? Had someone commissioned zir to carry humans through space? That was an infrequent and low-prestige task, so it stood to reason that zie had done it, but zie couldn’t find any record of a contract.
Zie checked zir bodym and confirmed the presence of a human-compatible organ. It functioned and had taken minimal radiation damage. A few weeks on the umbilical and zir body would repair it, but that didn’t give zir much information about zir past. So zie had carried a human at some point. Zie could get back to Earth and try to find her, but what would she possibly know about zir if she was just a passenger? Like the other fragments of zir memory, both extended and organic, this one was of little use in understanding zir present circumstances.
As Rithu’s majestic body disappeared into the clouds of Kumuda, Nakis shut down zir vision. Every part of zir body ached, including zir eyes. The bhojya filled zir stomach like a dense asteroid. That zie could feel exhausted after being in hibernation for so long was mystifying and undeniable. Stay as long as you need to, Rithu had said. Zie set aside the questions crowding zir thoughts and let zirself rest.
YAANA—VESSEL
Jayanthi gazed up at green leaves and sunlight against a perfect blue sky. I’m dead, she thought, but her body didn’t feel dead. It hurt. She glanced down and saw that she lay on a cot with clean white sheets. A diagnostic strip wrapped her arm. A hydration line snaked between it and a squat machine nearby. That doesn’t fit with a heavenly afterlife. The dead wouldn’t need medical attention. As her awareness increased, she noticed other things: her scratchy throat and dry eyes, the sticky residue of unbrushed teeth, the gentle whir of a motor, the distant sound of human voices.
She could turn her head. Her cot lay in a small clearing surrounded by lush trees with tapered, three-pointed leaves. An empty chair leaned against one of the tree trunks. Someone had dressed her in a button-front shirt and loose pants the color of ripe mango, both made of whisper-soft fabric.
She eased herself upright. Blood rushed from her head.
“Oh, no, don’t get up!” A human emerged from the trees, their generous form draped by teal and red, with a face beautiful enough to thaw the coldest ice. Wide, dark gray eyes were set in light-brown skin. Rosebud lips formed a kind smile.
Jayanthi slow-blinked and was relieved to see identifying information appear. Their name was Sunanda, and they were only a few years older than her.
“Where am I?” Jayanthi asked, taking their advice and dropping back onto her pillow.
Sunanda pulled the chair closer and sat. “You’re in a megaconstruct named Chedi, passing through the Pamir System. She—Chedi, that is—got a message from someone to pick you up. You were unconscious and in pretty bad shape, so we put you in our hospital and treated you. We had to give you an emergency blood transfusion. You’re on some strong pain relievers, but Chedi thinks you’ll be okay.”
“Thank you.” So Manib hadn’t left her to die. It would have helped if he’d told her what to expect. “And who are you? I mean, not your name. I saw that. Why are you here?” She couldn’t help but feel a little afraid and suspicious after what had happened with Saunika, though Sunanda seemed like the exact opposite.
Sunanda grinned. “I live here! When you feel up to it, I’ll bring you to the others and show you around. Chedi is enormous and can host up to fifteen hundred human beings, though right now, she’s only carrying about seventy of us. We all ended up here in different ways, usually something like yours—dumped by some inscrutable constructed mind or overstaying an invitation from an alloy—and we all love space travel. Chedi is our mother hen. She likes to pick up stray humans and give them a home.”
“And she’s taking us back to Earth?”
“Oh, no! We pass through Sol to restock our supplies, but we avoid it as much as possible.” They leaned in conspiratorially. “Technically, it’s not against the law to be here, but since we didn’t travel via legal methods, the people who got us here could get in trouble. We all love to explore, as does Chedi, so she covers for us when we’re around Earth or an alloy padhran. We vote on where to go, though Chedi always gets the final say, and then we spend as long as we can traveling. Right now, we’re exploring the Pamir System, obviously. We’re headed to the outer planet, Kumuda. That’s how we crossed paths with your construct.”
“I see.” Jayanthi decided to wait before disclosing her full history. Let the people here assume she was like them for now.
“I can keep talking all day, but I should get you some food and drink. You stay here and rest, okay? You don’t have to. You’re one of us now, not a prisoner, and here’s the button to release the medical sleeve, but that’s what Chedi suggests because you were so unwell.”
As Sunanda disappeared, Jayanthi spotted a discreet closet among the trees with its door ajar. She disengaged her arm and took her time getting up. Inside the closet, she found a clean, softly lit bathroom, including a set of towels and soap that she used to wash her face. That minimal activity set her heart racing. On unsteady legs, she returned to her cot, propped the pillow against the headboard, and stretched out her legs. The only thing missing from the idyllic surroundings was birdsong. Now that she looked more closely, she could tell that the “sunlight” shone a little too evenly to be natural. She slow-blinked and marveled at what she could access. The menu showed a full library of information, entertainment, and education. There was even a local copy of the Nivid, though it was several years out of date.
She thought-searched for a schematic, as she had with Manib, and found one. Unlike his tower architecture, Chedi had a nested-cylinder design. A massive block of ice formed her outermost layer, then came the level Jayanthi was on, and finally, above her at Chedi’s core, an artificial sky and light source. The entire construct rotated to maintain a perfect 9.8 m/s2. Someone had clearly built Chedi to carry humans through space.
She’s marvelous. How had Jayanthi not known such a megaconstruct existed? Mina would have loved to live in a place like this. Precompact spacecraft were made more like Manib—utilitarian and rigid and obviously vehicular. Chedi was younger and felt like a living biome.
“Who built you?” Jaya murmured aloud.
“Some kind alloys who wanted to give humans more freedom,” Sunanda answered. They carried a laden tray, which they set across Jayanthi’s lap.
Jayanthi lifted the first lid and inhaled the steamy aroma of coriander, ginger, turmeric, and roasted red chiles. Her stomach growled audibly, and they both laughed.
“I haven’t eaten anything but bhojya in days,” Jayanthi admitted. She shoveled a spoonful of the seasoned rice into her mouth and sighed with pleasure as she swallowed. “Delicious! Please thank the cook.”
“That would be Chedi. Some of us cook when we want to, but her ambulatory constructs do most of it.”
“Can she hear us speaking?”
Sunanda shook their head. “She likes to give us privacy and independence, so she keeps all the hidden microphones and cameras disabled unless there’s an emergency. You have to go to the flight room to speak with her. She likes to see us every day, though—that whole mother hen thing, you know? I promised I’d bring you to visit once you’re strong enough.”
“A bellyful of this, and I’ll be ready to go.”
Sunanda beamed at her, their smile rivaling the faux sunshine. “You are so nice. You’ll fit right in. Not everybody does. We leave those people at the first safe place we can, but I can tell you’re not like that.”
Jayanthi finished her food, drank deeply and gratefully of the hot tea, and found herself overwhelmed by drowsiness. Her curiosity battered against it, but the exhaustion won. Sunanda removed the tray and tucked her under the sheets. Jayanthi found herself enjoying the pampering, but something nagged at her thoughts. She ought to ask about . . . someone . . . Vaha. But her lids were so heavy and her tongue so clumsy, she couldn’t form a coherent thought except for one: I’m safe here.
When Jayanthi woke again, the light around her was suffused with a warm orange glow. A check of ship time showed early morning, not evening. Had she really slept for seventeen hours straight? She stretched and found her limbs less achy than before. The rest must have done her some good.
