Nobody was gonna do a single thing to me. No, not now.
If it was just me, I wouldn�t care. I was born battered and helpless, all behind a glass as they looked on and smiled and performed their tests. Me, they could kill. I wouldn�t defend myself. But as I looked down at myself, I smiled.
It was no longer just me.
They had just performed their final test, and I was going to destroy them with the results.
I still remember the look he wore when I opened my eyes.
As I wandered the teeming streets of Ganymede Central, it struck me just how alone I was. I was not among my own kind. Walking past the flashing displays and the vendors, observing the people, I realized that I was on an alien world. Nobody knew or cared who I was, none but those who I could hurt. I am not saying that I am a stranger, although I suppose I am that too. No, I am saying I am not human; at least by the traditional definition.
I wondered where I wandered and then I remembered. I was headed for the spaceport, to get off this moon and head somewhere else. Someplace where the Global Defense Coalition hadn�t sunk its hooks into yet. I knew that such places must exist, why else would I even have been given life? I merely needed to learn geography and I would be fine.
Now, there must be a way to find a taxicab and obtain its services. I watched the streets, to see if anyone knew what to do. It wasn't long before I saw someone walk out of a nearby building, approach the curb, and raise their hand and shout "Taxi!" A taxi pulled up, the man got in and it took off. I followed suit and what could best be described as a rickety pile of bolts and rust pulled up, a yellowed taxi driver's license in the passenger's seat window.
�Spaceport, please!� I shouted.
�Hop in, ma�am.� I climbed in and we took off. If my skeletal memory of the layout of Ganycent served, we were currently in Old Colony Borough. Ganymede Intrasystem Spaceport was in Fleetyard, and according to the map on the back of the driver's seat Fleetyard was two boroughs away from Old Colony. That was about half the city away.
"What's the time?" I asked the cabbie.
"It's 12:01," he answered.
�Hey cabbie, you know any newsradio channels?� I asked. �If so, turn one on.�
He silently obliged me, clicking on the radio and tuning it.
�In other news,� droned on the anchor, �the unanimous support given to the Global Defense Coalition is beginning to crumble. With the latest proclamations of General Chacazzo, Lontyn and Dystroch Columilis seem to be saying that they�re fed up. This could be a devastating blow to the unity that humanity has shown in the face of the alien threat.
�The ordered anarchy that is Emeriqua represents one of the strongest economies in the system, and for not technically having a government they still have the mightiest Earth-bound military. Not necessarily useful for the alien threat, it could nevertheless serve as deterrent against the Earth-bound Coalition members if used. Add to that its allies Imperial Nippon and the Republic of Australia, and you have a strong alliance that could prove a tough nut to crack.
�As for the Brytash Solar Imperium, their terrestrial holdings may be limited to their home isles and the ancient Commonwealth may be dead, but their colonial holdings on Earth�s moon and their Jovian sky cities have brought them renewed might. Certainly, the Royal Stellar Force is second to none still.�
�Where is this� Jovia?� I asked the cabbie. He looked in the rearview at me, incredulous, and then he clicked off the radio.
�You mean Jupiter? Look up.�
I did, and I can only assume that he was talking about the big ball of orange and red above me.
�They oppose the Coalition?� I inquired further.
�Yeah, but not even Queen Mary the Fifth can stand up to the other nine members of the Coalition.�
�But what of that other nation? Emeriqua, I believe?�
�An odd sort, they,� he replied. �An organized anarchy since the Reunion War. They have no government, and the Army maintains itself by private donations. Fine enough when you�re fighting on Earth, but they only have two ships in the Star Force and we all know where Kyriakos Anastasia�s at. I wouldn�t give them a chance in a solar war.�
�Where is Emeriqua? Earth?�
�Yeah. Go to Zhongua and take a right, or go to Doytschterre and take a left. Kinda hard to miss.�
�Is Earth one of those round thingies near Jupiter?�
�No, it�s the third planet from Sol. Look, kid, you�re really not that bright, are ya?�
I thought about that. Perhaps it wasn�t so wise to ask so much at once of one person. Of course, where else would I turn? I wanted out of here as soon as possible, and those Jupiterian� Jupitrine� what did he say, Jovian? sky cities were really looking attractive about now. If I was going to be free from the Coalition, Brytannia sounded like my safest bet.
�I am� uneducated, I profess,� I replied. Not the best answer, but what do you say to something like that? �It�s a long story.�
�What�s your name, kid?� he asked me.
�I� I dunno. What�s yours?� I hoped I didn�t sound too unsure, too out of it. I was already suspicious.
�My name is Mujahede Sayyif,� he declared proudly. �I�m from a long proud line of Sayyifs, by the way. My ancestor, Hassam Sayyif, was a general in the Pakistine Army during the Idealist War. My grandfather was one of the first ten thousand Ganymedans, and he came here by way of Kannata. I still have family in Maureal, although we only send Ramadan cards nowadays.�
I was wading through all these unfamiliar terms. Kannata? Maureal? Ramadan? What? How was I to make sense of all this?
�That must be nice, knowing your roots� where you come from,� I pondered.
�My name is my pride,� he says. �Without it I am nothing.�
�I think I would like to be a Sayyif as well,� I decided. �Since I don�t know what my name is, maybe I could use yours?�
He looked at me, unbelieving of what he just heard.
�You�re crazy, kid!� He laughed a great laugh, but it wasn�t bad. At least, it didn�t seem bad. �All right, tell ya what. You can have my last name, but we need to think up a more suitable first name than-Aw buddy! Just run the freaking amber already!�
I looked out the window, trying to understand what was going on as he honked his horn.
�What�s the matter?�
�The guy ahead of us, he coulda made that amber light! Sonufa-It�s red now! Thanks a lot!�
�Amber�� I played that word around in my mind. One of the technicians at the lab had been named Amber, so apparently it was a common enough name. Also, the color amber seemed to be upsetting Mr. Sayyif right now, and I suppose that I have upset plenty of people in my short life.
"Yeah, amber light. What of it?"
"Amber Sayyif. My name is Amber Sayyif."
"I suppose that works, Amber Sayyif. I would have thought up something more Middle Eastern, but Amber Sayyif-it has a sort of idiosyncratic ring to it."
The rest of the trip was spent in wondrous silence; or should I say my wonder at the sights out my window and his silence.
You have to understand, first off, the reason for my wonderment. I had spent most of my time in the "care" of the Coalition. I really didn't know anything beyond what they wanted me to know and what was mentioned by the lab workers in passing. I knew, for instance, that we were near a city called Ganymede Central, abbreviated as Ganycent. I knew we were on the moon of Ganymede, orbiting the planet Jupiter. What I didn't know was what a city was, a moon was, or what a planet was. I just didn't know what they were. I didn't understand buildings, except that I was in the Coalition Research and Development Building. I had little clue about roads, except that they got people from place to place and things called "cars" rode on them, and some of these cars were called "taxis" which would take you along the roads for money.
My cabbie, Mr. Sayyif, probably thought I was a lunatic by now. That was fine, all things considered. I would never see this place again, and I would head for the Jovian skycities ruled by the Queen of Brytannia.
We arrived at the spaceport swiftly enough after that.
"Why are there so many people here?" I asked. "It's swamped. And why do they look so hurried?"
"You haven't heard about the aliens?" he inquired, shocked. "The robot bugs headed for Earth, that turned Kyriakos Anastasia into a pile of junk? Yeah, their trajectory is bringing them here first. Rumor has it the Coalition is going to send all forces to make a last-ditch stand at Earth, and they're evacuating the Outer System. That includes here."
"Where are those people going?"
"Earth. The bugs planned their attack just right; they'll hit all the major population centers before they get to Earth, so everyone figures that the safest place is the one with the most guns."
"Why aren't you going?"
"You joking, kid?" His eyes turned serious for a moment. "I drive a cab for a living. You think I can afford a ticket to Earth? Especially with half the population of Ganymede looking to head there as well?"
"How much does a ticket to Earth cost?" I asked him, getting out a cashchip I stole from the lab director.
"I dunno, fifty thousand credits in this market? Guys like me make maybe twenty thousand a year. But what about you?"
"This cashchip says that it has one hundred and seventeen thousand credits on file. I can buy us both tickets."
He looked at me.
"You're joking," he said. "You'd really do that for a stranger?"
"I stole this cashchip from someone who was trying to kill me four hours ago. You're the first nice person I've met, and I don't want to see you die from these aliens."
"You have got to be kidding. You're crazy!"
"So you're saying you don't want a ticket?"
"Nononono! Sign me up! It's just a little hard to believe, y'know?"
He parked the cab in a drop-off lane, and we both got out. One of the security officers came up to us.
"Sir, you can't just park your-"
"It's not mine! It's yours! Merry Solstice!" shouted Mr. Sayyif as he tossed the keys at the officer. He blinked, about to protest further, but we walked on uncaring. I looked back to see him shrug and hop in the cab.
"But wait, Mr. Sayyif!" I shouted. "Don't you have anything you want to keep?" I asked.
"Everything I care about is somewhere on my person," he said. "All my other stuff is junk that may get me a thousand credits, and that's if I'm lucky. It's a buyer's market, 'cuz nobody can take it all with them."
Something started beeping in his pocket. He dug around frantically, trying to locate it among all the stuff he had in there. Successful at last, he plucked it out and shouted "Hello?" above the noise of the crowds.
We walked on, and I smelled something good. My stomach rumbled at the whiff.
"What's that I smell?" I asked Mr. Sayyif. He put up a finger, trying to shush me as he listened to his device.
"Yeah, well guess what sir? I quit! I'm officially getting off this moon, and I-"
We walked on, trying to determine what that smell was.
"No, I found this girl who's leaving, and she decided to pay for my-... No, I'm not joking! You guys've been great, but we all know that Ganymede's finished-"
The smell was causing an odd sensation. I needed something, but I wasn't sure what.
"-You're joking! You're actually going to stay? The aliens are going to wreck this place, you know that."
It was growing stronger, and I turned in the direction it was coming from.
"Yes, you would stand to make a fortune, provided you survived. Well sir, it was great to know you, but I must for the last time say goodbye. Goodbye, sir."
He pushed a button on his device and it went beep. He then turned around to see me heading for a popcorn stand.
"Hey, what the devil are you-get back here!" he shouted.
"What is that smell, Mr. Sayyif?" I asked, pointing pleadingly to the popcorn stand.
"It's buttered popcorn."
"I can read that much! What's popcorn?"
"It's, uh, food."
So this sensation is hunger, then? Interesting. I had never felt it before, as the glucose tubes they had plugged into me provided me with all the sustenance I had needed. When I ripped them out, I obviously stopped getting nourishment, so naturally I would get hungry. I remembered the sensation and placed it with the bodily need.
"Can we get some popcorn?" I asked Mr. Sayyif. "I've never had any before!"
"Well, I suppose," he decided. He got out his cashchip and paid the man behind the stand, and he handed me a red-and-white striped bag filled with fluffy yellow-white things. I stared at it, and I picked one up and reached to my mouth to put it in there, as I had seen one of the lab technicians do once when he thought I was in a regeneration cycle. I planted it on my tongue and began chomping my jaw like that technician had done.
"Is there a reason I have to chomp my jaw after I place food in my mouth?" I asked Mr. Sayyif.
The guy at the popcorn stand was watching me in amazement for some reason.
"Is she joking around, or what?" he asked in wonderment.
"No, she's not, I don't think. She asked me if Earth was one of Jupiter's moons just earlier today."
"Is she, y'know, uh, special?"
I didn't like the tone of the guy's voice but I had no clue what he meant by the word 'special'.
"No, it's just like she literally knows nothing."
"An amnesiac, maybe?"
"Perhaps."
"Hey, she's kinda cute. Why don't you try telling her you're her husband or something," the guy suggested with a sly grin.
Mr. Sayyif turned abruptly and knocked him on his rear.
"You sniveling rat! How dare you insinuate-!"
"Don't make me call security, pops!"
"Come on, Amber, we're going," Mr. Sayyif grunted, stalking off. I ran to catch up with him.
"Why did you hit that man?"
"Nevermind that. He was a mean young man, and he was insulting your honor and mine."
"What's honor? For that matter, what's a husband?"
"Amber, how is it that you don't know any of these things?"
"I... I don't know. I was never taught, I guess." I was talking while chomping up and down and trying to balance that same piece of popcorn on the tip of my tongue. I was apparently quite the curiosity, as people were turning and pointing. Mr. Sayyif noticed and he turned to me, slightly exasperated.
"Oh, for Allah's sake, Amber, you're supposed to chew it. Like this." He grabbed a piece of popcorn and put it to his lips, then opened his mouth so I could see him masticate and tear the food with his teeth. "Except when you chew, chew with your mouth closed. You're kinda creating a scene."
I felt... embarrassed then, almost as bad as I felt when I was in the glass tube, naked and being stared at by the lab workers. It wasn't as bad, though, but still shame had been one of the main reasons that I had left the lab. I quickly closed my mouth and chewed the soggy piece of popcorn, cringing from the eyes upon me.
"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Sayyif."
"It's okay, Amber. You didn't know."
I took another piece of popcorn and put it to my mouth.
"Which spaceline are we taking?" he asked me.
"Spaceline?"
"I'll take that as an 'I don't know'," he said. "Well, Selenian Spacelines is the closest, we'll try there."
We arrived there, and I read the listed price for tickets.
"Fifty-seven thousand credits. Multiply by two and that's one hundred and fourteen thousand credits. I'll have three thousand to spare."
Just then, a guy came up and replaced the plastic sign with the price of C57000 with a new sign reading C59000. All across the area, people let out groans.
"Does this mean we can't buy two tickets?" I asked.
"It's okay, kid. I'll call Mr. Silverman back and ask for my old job. In this market, it shouldn't be hard to find a new-"
"No!" I protested. "If you don't come with me, who's gonna beat up people when they insult my honor? Who's gonna tell me what stuff is and stuff? We can ask them if they'll give us a slight discount."
He sighed and nodded, but by the look in his eyes I think he was glad I protested.
Our turn to buy tickets.
"Mister, I was wondering if maybe you could lower the price slightly? I know you just raised it, but I only have C117000 and I need to buy two-"
The guy at the counter cut me off. "I don't want to hear your sob story, either buy a ticket or go whine to Public Relations. NEXT!"
"HEY!" I shouted. "I wasn't done here!"
"Were you going to buy a ticket?"
"I was gonna buy two, but-"
"Not my problem. NEXT!"
Guys with a badge reading "Selenian Spacelines Security" ushered us out of the way, and we were back to where we were before.
"This is really bad, Amber," he told me.
"No, we can just try another of those spaceline things and see if their tickets are cheaper, right?"
He shook his head. "No, Amber. This is a seller's market."
"I thought you said it was a buyer's market just a minute ago back in the cab."
"Yes, but that's different, Amber. I'm talking about starship tickets. There's more people wanting to buy tickets than there are tickets, so the price is high. And when one guy raises prices, they all raise prices."
"Oi, you two." A dark, lilting voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and Mr. Sayyif turned about, looking to see who said that. I quickly distinguished the direction of the sound, though, and turned to the corner of the room.
A shifty-looking man with his hands in his pockets was leaning against the wall. He had long black hair that reached to his collar and he had the deepest grey eyes I had ever seen. He was wearing a black leather coat, black jeans, and a white shirt with an odd pendant hanging from it.
"I couldn't help but notice you two were looking for a lift," he said, getting up from his slouch. "The name's ap Dhia, by the way. Lloyd ap Dhia." He reached his hand forward to Mr. Sayyif, who grabbed it and bobbed it up and down in what looked like a customary greeting. Mr. Sayyif let go, and Lloyd put his hand to me and I did the same.
"You can stop shaking it now, luv," he replied, a look of amusement on his features.
"A pleasure to meet you, young sir. The name's Mujahede Sayyif. I take it you can get us tickets?"
"I can get you more than that. I own a small quadwing. I'm willing to give you two passage, room and board on it if you'll pay me C80000 and you won't mind frequent stops or company and you won't ask too many questions."
"I won't ask you any questions," I told him. "Mr. Sayyif can answer my questions."
Mr. Sayyif looked agitated. "Could you excuse us for a moment."
Lloyd opened his arms in agreement, going back to slouching against the wall.
"That's not the kind of questions he meant," he replied. "Surely you know what a pirate is, Amber?"
"Someone who takes stuff from people and resells it. So? We can afford passage."
"That's kinda illegal, Amber, and we're gonna get blown outta the heavens if we go with him."
"If you're worried about legality, Mr. Sayyif, let me assure you that the Coalition wants me dead, legal or no. I realize I'm kinda behind on a lot of things, but I assure you I'm no fool. Maybe if we go with him we'll blend into the criminal background and they'll get us confused with the average space pirate. Besides, he seems rather nice for a criminal. I think we can trust him."
Mr. Sayyif just looked at me.
"What did you do to anger the Coalition?" he asked me.
"It's not what I did, it's who I am. Anyway, it's my money and I'll spend it as I wish. Now are you going to die when the aliens invade Ganymede or when the Coalition blows up Lloyd's ship? You do know they'll kill you just for knowing too much about me as it is. You're too deep in it to get out now."
"Fine. Give him the money."
I walked over to Lloyd.
"Um, here's my cashchip. I don't know how to work it, so could you take the money out for me and put it in your account?"
In the corner of my eye, Mr. Sayyif was shaking his head and muttering to himself.
"You're a very trusting person," Lloyd told me as he took my cashchip and linked it to mine by sliding them together and pressing some buttons. "In these days, that's pretty rare." He handed my cashchip back to me, and I glanced at the display and it said C37000. I stuck it in my pocket.
"Is that a good thing?" I asked.
"Sure, so long as you're careful who you trust," he told me. "You lucked out this time, but people will try to rip you off and worse."
"You don't know the half of it," I replied.
"You'd be surprised at what I happen to know, Amber."
I blinked, trying to remember if I had told him my name.
"Don't worry, I just have good hearing. Nothing odd."
"I will say this right now, ap Dhia," began Mr. Sayyif. "I don't trust you. However, I have little choice between staying here and dying and going somewhere else and dying. So I fear I must leave my fate in your hands for now."
"Understood," Lloyd replied. "I hope I can change your mind sooner or later, but at least you're being truthful, guv'nor. Another lost virtue, that."
"So when do we leave?" I asked him.
"I'm picking up some... mates tonight. We're gonna leave in the morning, at 2200 hours Zulu Time. I'm not sure of our destination yet, but more likely than not we'll be making a stop at McCartney."
I couldn't make out the rest of what was said, as I collapsed to the floor.
***
I was dreaming, and in my dream I was back in the lab, in a tube. They were all looking at me, studying my body and my eyes and my very soul, it seemed. The more I turned away, the deeper they probed.
I remembered wanting to die. To cease to be would have been better.
"No," something told me, a voice so jovial and calming that it felt like it filled a hole in me. "You are meant for more than this. I love you, I love you like you could never know."
"What is that voice?" I asked. I yearned for the sound of that voice.
"I am your lover. Horrible things will happen, but remember I am with you."
"I don't even know your name."
In my mind, I felt whoever it was look up at me.
"I am Rook," it replied cryptically.
My dream, and I knew it was such, played back my most horrible moment.
"My honored guest, this is our pet project," the lab director told a man in a blue suit and tie.
He smiled approvingly, with his devil-may-care little boyish grin.
I can't, I told myself. I can't.
Rook just smiled at me. And all during the horrid encounter, I just kept looking at that smile.
It was all I had.
***
"Wake up, luv," Lloyd said. I was lying in a bed in a small room, and Mr. Sayyif and Lloyd were both there.
"Wh-where am I?" I asked.
"You're in a hotel in Little Emeriqua," Mr. Sayyif's booming voice informed me.
"Hotel?"
"A... home away from home. C100 buys you a place to sleep for a night."
"I see," I replied. "How did I get here?"
"You collapsed in the airport and we weren't ready to leave yet," Lloyd explained. "We are now. Take a quick shower and get dressed."
"I only have one set of clothes," I said.
"I bought you two changes of clothes," Lloyd told me, tossing me a small suitcase. "Here they are. Hope you like them."
I entered the bathroom and locked the door, and then I showered and changed into one of the outfits, a dark red top with black nylon pants.
"That looks good on you, Amber," Lloyd remarked as I opened the door.
"Right, now we were gonna get off this ball of rock?"
"Of course," nodded Lloyd. "Follow me to the cab."
We all piled into the cab, in the back.
"Spaceport," Mr. Sayyif told the cabbie.
"Sure."
We drove on for a few minutes, and I was enjoying the ride. After a short while, though, Lloyd started getting nervous. He whispered something into Mr. Sayyif's ear.
Mr. Sayyif stared at the cabbie in the rearview.
"You are headed for the spaceport, right?" he asked.
"What? No talk Angol," the cabbie replied. He looked like he might have been an Emeriquan or possibly a Zhonguan, so this could be the case.
Lloyd pulled a gun on him.
"Well ya better learn quick, ya bloody cromwell," he spat. "Well enough to tell us why the Man's been secretly trailing us for the past ten blocks and we're nowhere near Fleetyard yet."
"Cromwell? That's rather harsh." He no longer spoke with an accent.
"It isn't when you work for Best Friend," Lloyd replied. "Start making a break for it and get us to the spaceport or you'll be breathing out yer clavicle."
The cabbie was terrified.
"Look, I didn't ask to do this! They got me kids, ye know? I screw up an' bam! They're goners!"
"Well then, just do what I say and you'll be fine," Lloyd said as he got out a gadget similar to the one Mr. Sayyif had used yesterday.
"Guys? This is Lloyd on the cell. We got trouble, four cromwells on our tail. Deac, I could use some backup. Paula, fire up Scion and get her to Little Emeriqua, at... Zed Street."
Mr. Sayyif's mouth was gaping now.
"You're joking! You're not-"
"We are. Here," Lloyd handed a pistol to Mr. Sayyif, "point this end out and do some damage. We're gonna have to buy some time."
Lloyd then rolled down the window and leaned out and fired a few rounds at one of the pursuing cars. After that happened, from what I saw in the rearview (I was stuck in the middle seat, although upon reflection this wasn't necessarily a bad thing), the undercover cars gave up trying to hide and people with machineguns emerged from them. Sprays of bullets pierced the trunk.
"Balls!" cursed Lloyd. "Bail!" He leapt out of the door, rolling in three directions on the ground. Somehow, he managed to do that safely while dodging traffic at the same time. Meanwhile, Mr. Sayyif had grabbed me and pulled me out of the car and onto the sidewalk, where the cabbie had also jumped.
Just in time, too, as the taxi erupted in flames. Traffic tried to dodge the burning wreckage and the fireball, but there was a huge pileup and our pursuers were part of it. Finding their vehicles useless, they tried to pursue us on foot.
"Gimme your gun and run for it!" I shouted at Mr. Sayyif. He looked at me as if I was crazy, yet again.
"Don't argue! Just do it!"
He handed the gun to me, but he most markedly did not run for it.
Smoke hung over the highway like a fog of war, and I began to see figures emerging from the twisted steel and glass. They had rifles out, and they looked positively furious.
I did what I did best, I did what I was built to do.
Like clockwork, I turned and shot them as they emerged. It took me only a second to aim and fire, and they were terrified.
"Take cover!" they shouted. "The Genemod has a gun!"
They ducked into the cars whose roofs they were standing on, peering out when they thought it safe. I took the opportunity to reload.
"Stay here, then," I instructed Mr. Sayyif as I dove into the smoke to look for Lloyd. I couldn't see a thing, of course, so I kept low and always checked to see if one of the cromwells was hiding near me. With 20/7 vision, I figured I'd see them before they saw me. This was true enough.
This blurred hunt continued for about thirty seconds before I heard shouting and machinegun fire. More explosions boomed around me, and people screamed the screams of the dead. I blocked it all out as I continued to search for Lloyd. He was my ticket out of here, and if he was dead then I was probably screwed.
Suddenly, a humming began from far away. It grew closer and I was trying to remember where I had heard that humming before.
The spaceport.
I then realized that Lloyd's pals had arrived. With the hoverjets on, the smoke cleared rather quickly and I could see yet again.
The ship was sleek and carved out of black metal and polarized glass. It had three winglike structures-one on top, one on the lower left and one on the lower right. In dark red lettering, the words Scion of Trinity stood out against the dull black chrome on the side. There were three engine structures built into the base of the thing, two seemed to double as hovering systems and were currently in use. There were also handholds that led to an airlock and various parts of the ship, presumably for zero-g repair.
"Grab onto the sides!" called out Lloyd, who was holding onto one of the handholds. That I did as it passed by me, and as it passed by Mr. Sayyif he grabbed on as well.
"Now!" he shouted into his device. Scion of Trinity activated its thrusters then, blazing away to a different part of the city's air dome. Meanwhile, the three of us were hanging helpless on the sides of the craft. This was not to be for much longer, however, as it began hovering on the top of a residential building long enough for someone to open the airlock in the back. We hopped onto the roof, and then clambered one-by-one into the airlock. Mr. Sayyif, the last one in, closed it tightly and opened the next door. The airlock, I must say, was rather small.
Scion of Trinity was a relatively small craft from the inside. A small area on the other side of the interior airlock door was a cargo bay of sorts, but there were fold-out bunks on the walls that could accommodate passengers. I surmised that was where we would be sleeping for the next few years. The cargo bay was partitioned off from the rest of the ship by a thin grey curtain. We brushed it aside, and saw the cockpit. There were switches and buttons everywhere, and the view out the window was that of the city of Ganycent. There were three seats there, one for the pilot, one for the gunner, and one for who knew what else. Maybe another gunner.
"Captain on the bridge!" shouted the man in the pilot's chair in mockery.
"Funny you aren't, Deac. Now tell me how we're gonna get out of the city's air dome before civil defense makes us feel pain."
The one named Deac got out of his seat in favor of Lloyd. "We've already bribed the traffic controllers. Wasn't cheap, though,but they'd let us through even if we were the aliens themselves with the chunk of credits we gave them."
"Excellent," Lloyd mused. "Now we just have to get there."
Getting there wasn't as easy as I had hoped, as police craft were taking off from various points in the city.
"Is that civil defense?" I asked.
"The one and only," a girl in the gunner's seat told me. "Take 'em out, Lloyd?"
"At will, Paula."
She unleashed the ship's fearsome weaponry on the nearest civil defense craft as it was ascending. The boom of the guns echoed like bass boosters throughout the hull, and the civil defense craft made an emergency landing.
It would have begun to be dangerous had not the spaceport's airlock been right there. It was a sight to behold, fifty or so craft hovering in line waiting their turn to leave. We cut to the front and entered into the airlock with about twelve other various and sundry spacecraft, and the big lock door began closing. The civil defense craft, about three in number with another ten in the distance, doubled their speed to try to make the doors. One got through, and the other two waited there helplessly. It started firing on us.
"Paula! Return fire already!"
The guns thundered again, but half of it struck the metallic walls and scorched the area. The door behind us was finally closed, and the next one started to open.
"Paula! New target! Let loose on that door ahead of us!" Lloyd shouted as he navigated us towards the front of the airlock.
She did this, and the metal shrieked and whined, tearing apart. We broke through then, the door torn in two and the weak civil defense ships struggling to keep up.
"This has the promisings of an interesting month," Deac remarked.
"New month?" I asked.
"Yeah, it's December First," Mujahede told me. "A month is about thirty days. There's twelve of them in a year."
"Hmm..." I calculated. "If that's true, then I've been alive for about three years that I can remember."
Everyone gasped then.
"You are certain that you aren't suffering from memory loss?" Mr. Sayyif asked.
"Not suffering from long-term... What kind of a question is that?" I demanded. "No, I can't be sure."
"She has to have forgotten the rest of her life," Paula said.
"Unless..." began Lloyd.
"Unless what?" Paula asked. "You're not proposing... what is it that you're proposing?"
"Maybe she's a bit of the twelve and first, eh? Think about it."
"Twelve and first?" I asked Mr. Sayyif, who just shrugged his shoulders.
"Nevermind that," Lloyd said. "In any case, we're glad we had the chance to rescue you. Both."
Mr. Sayyif just looked at him.
"What is this all about?"
"We're just... talking in pirate's cant. Right buccies?"
"Verily," Paula said, and I got the distinct impression she was being ironic.
"Sure, Cap'n," offered Deac.
"Then what's the meaning of 'twelve and first'?" inquired Mr. Sayyif, skeptical.
"It means amnesia. Sort of."
"Well, define it."
"It's sorta one o' those words whose meaning is lost in translation."
"Whatever," Mr. Sayyif said, resigned to the fact that they wouldn't tell him. "If you don't mind, and if we're not going to all die in the next five minutes, I think I'm going to go lie down in one of the bunks."
"Same here for me, Lloyd," Deac seconded. "I'd be asleep if it hadn't been an emergency."
"Good night then, mates," he bade. Then, a few seconds later, he turned to me. "What about you, Amber?"
"I'm not tired," I told him. "Although I am kinda hungry."
Paula tossed me a bar. "Here ya go. Cherry-flavored ration bar. They taste as great as inhumane culinary torture ever did."
"Inhumane culinary torture?" I asked.
"A joke," Paula replied. As we were out of the heart of battle, I noticed she had sort of an odd, flowing accent different than Lloyd's.
"Where are you from?" I asked her between bites of ration bar. I had no clue what "cherry" tasted like, but as I experienced the ration bar I grew to hope that this was a pathetic shadow of the taste of a real cherry.
"What, can't you tell? I'm from Emeriqua. Grew up in Langelis, flunked out of Wes Poyne and met Lloyd and friends in a bar on the west side of Bellamarha."
"This language, whatever it is, doesn't sound like your native tongue. Do they speak it in Emeriqua?"
"No," she told me, "They speak Emeriquan in Emeriqua. Although I'm told that I speak the Queen's Angol rather well."
"You do, at that," I said.
"If you don't mind," she said, " could I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"How come, and forgive my bluntness, you don't know much?"
"I was in a tube surrounded by oxygel and hooked up to a glycerin feed for three years. You tend not to get out much like that."
"Lloyd, you may be right," Paula said. "The more she talks, the more she's a dead ringer for the twelve and one."
"What IS the twelve and first?" I asked him.
"Never you mind that," Lloyd said. He set Scion of Trinity on autopilot and got up out of his seat. He strolled over to the polarized glass. It cut out the glare of the sun, which was reflecting brightly off the planet Jupiter ahead of us. He mused at the swirling gasses of Jupiter.
"Do you ever think about the purpose of it all?" Lloyd asked me.
"I don't think I follow you."
He stopped and he contemplated the planet dead ahead of him.
"Look at that, Amber. A huge pile of gas, with a small but incredibly dense core. Do you know what almost happened here, billions of years ago?"
"What?"
"That planet before you almost became a sun. It certainly has the mass for it. Almost. Do you know why it didn't?"
"There probably wasn't sufficient pressure to cause it to condense into a flaming nuclear reaction."
"A good thing, too, or life would never have evolved on Earth. Provided you care a whit about all that stuff," he said to change the subject. "But do you know what I think? I think that it didn't ignite specifically because life then would never have survived on Earth."
"An odd idea, saying the effect made the cause. Disconcerting, even."
"Not necessarily, and there was still a cause-effect from the beginning and it never flip-flopped. But enough confusing philosophy, Amber. This is a great day for all of us, and after a stop in McCartney to get some more friends of mine, we'll set off for Earth."
"Earth... where are you from, Lloyd?"
"Good question, luv. I was born on a freighter headed from Lontyn to the Brytash Protectorate of Ganymede. Or at least, that's what it was called at the time. The Selenian War broke out mid-transit, and Selenia helped the Ganymedan Republic Party overthrow the Protectorate. We had to switch course for the city of Gallagher to avoid the war zone, and we joined a civilian convoy protected by Her Majesty's Starship Churchyll. So, long story short, I dunno. For what it's worth, I lived half my childhood in Gallagher and the other half in McCartney."
"Where's Gallagher?"
"Another sky city," he replied. "Not as famous, though. They just harvest helium in the Low Belt, which is vital, don't get me wrong, but still it isn't worth half a credit per liter. Now hydrogen, well,you can make water with it. They mine that in the High Belt, where McCartney floats. They do a really brisk business with Mars, ever since they decided they were going to move ahead with the Martian Seas Project and try to introduce sealife."
I nodded, sort of comprehending it all but not really.
"Um, is there anything else, or can I go to sleep? I think I need to sleep, but I'm not sure. My eyes are wanting to close and I can't really pay attention to much."
"All right, see you in a bit. We dock at McCartney in thirty-six hours."