Brothers in Exile Read online

  “Oh?” said Mathusael, raising an eyebrow. “Not just to enjoy my company?”

  “Well, that too, of course. But there’s something we were hoping you could help us with—something we’d rather keep a secret.”

  “And what might that be?”

  Isaac took a sip of his drink while his brother finished his. “Do you know anything about the Nova Alnilam system? It’s one of the stars on the edge of the Far Outworlds. The catalogue says it was colonized a few generations ago, but they haven’t really been in contact with anyone else for some time.”

  “I’m familiar with it,” said Mathusael. “Haven’t talked with anyone who’s been there, but I know where it sits on a starmap.”

  “Well, we just got back from there, and the place is dead. Absolutely dead. We jumped in to radio silence, found the station lifeless and derelict. We docked and boarded, and found nothing but dead old bones.”

  Mathusael whistled. “That’s tough, man. No wonder you guys look like you’ve both seen ghosts.”

  “Yeah, but that isn’t half of it,” said Aaron, interjecting with the enthusiasm of someone who’s had a little too much to drink. “We found a girl there, the most beautiful girl you’ll ever see!”

  “A girl? You mean, her bones?”

  “No,” said Isaac. “She was frozen in cryo. We’re not sure if she’s alive or not, but—”

  “Can you thaw her?” asked Aaron. He took Mathusael by the arm and stared straight at him. “Can you wake her up so we can find out who she is?”

  Isaac leaned forward to pry them apart, but Mathusael brushed off Aaron’s grip before he could intervene. “I’ll do my best,” he reassured them. “I can’t promise anything, of course, but if you’ll let me take a look at her, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Right,” said Isaac, resisting the urge to elbow his brother in the side. “Of course, we’d rather keep things a bit hush-hush, not let anyone else know.”

  Mathusael laughed. “What, you think that the station authorities are going to treat her like contraband?”

  “We just don’t want any trouble.”

  “Of course, of course,” he said absent-mindedly. “Not that these asteroid miners are likely to give you any trouble. Most of them are just lost little boys pretending to be men.”

  “Kinda like me, huh?” said Aaron, looking intently at Isaac with a tipsy smile. “Isn’t that right, Isaac? Isn’t that what you think of me?”

  Definitely the leash next time, Isaac thought as he glared right back.

  * * * * *

  Fortunately, Aaron didn’t make too much of a scene on the way back to the Medea. Even if he had, they passed enough drunks that it hardly would have mattered much anyway. According to Mathusael, two major asteroid hauling missions had just come in, so the station was a bit rowdier than usual. All of that was on the upper decks, though. Down in the offloading bays for interstellar starships, things were fairly quiet.

  “So I went into that room,” Aaron told Mathusael, swaying a little as he walked. “And that’s when I saw her. The most gorgeous girl I think I’ve ever—”

  “That’s enough,” said Isaac. He palmed open the door to the offloading bay and ushered them in.

  The bay was fairly spacious, with a large magnetic claw hanging from the ceiling and an opening about four square meters in the floor for the loading platform. Since they were docked, the platform was raised, with a control panel in the far right corner surrounded by a protective railing. They’d unloaded most of their cargo already, which stood against the walls in large blue crates. A series of caged lights along the ceiling provided illumination.

  “So anyway,” said Aaron, steadying himself on the railing as they stepped down onto the loading platform. “I walked into this room, see, and I found this cryotank with the girl in it. Thought she was a ghost at first—freaked me the hell out. Isaac came running, of course, and he was just as shocked as I was.”

  “Well, not quite,” said Isaac as he activated the lift. The platform groaned as it began to descend through the freight airlock back into the cargo hold of the Medea.

  “Oh, don’t you try to deny it. He was all ‘we shouldn’t take her, we shouldn’t get involved,’ and I was all ‘what, you want to let the slavers get to her?’”

  “Too many slavers in these parts,” Mathusael muttered. He sighed and shook his head, while above them, the bay doors for the station slowly slid shut. “I wish I could say Esperanzia was free of them, but the system is too lawless.”

  “Well, we aren’t selling her,” said Isaac. I’ll be damned before I sell a lost girl like that as a slave.

  Mathusael nodded in approval. “Good. I’m glad you boys still have some moral sense about you. Far too many starfarers lose sight of what’s right and wrong when they’re out alone in the dark of space.”

  “Yeah, well, if Isaac ever tries something, he’ll know that I can see him, and if I ever try something, I’ll know that he’ll kick me off the ship.”

  That isn’t true, Isaac wanted to say. I’d never kick you off. Since Aaron was still a bit tipsy, though, there wasn’t any sense in arguing. Besides, he didn’t want to start another argument around Mathusael.

  The groan of the machinery dropped in pitch, and the platform gradually came to a stop in the center of the Medea’s hold. When the lift was fully retracted, Isaac powered down the controls and stepped around the rails onto the crisscrossed metal grating of the floor. Aaron stepped down next, almost losing his balance but recovering quickly. Mathusael followed close behind them.

  “Here she is,” said Isaac, leading him to a small alcove in the corner with an ad-hoc partition blocking it from view. He pulled back an EVA tarp made of reflective foil that they’d used to shield her from cosmic rays and let Mathusael take a closer look.

  “Interesting,” Mathusael muttered, stroking his chin as he peered in at the girl. Isaac did as well, just to make sure that nothing had changed about her. They didn’t have access to the cargo hold mid-voyage unless they went outside the ship in EVA suits. She looked exactly as she had on the derelict station, except that the lights in the hold gave them an even clearer view of her. The henna tattoos accentuated the curvature of her hips, drawing Isaac’s gaze to the cleft between her legs. He bit his lip and tried not to blush.

  “Stars, she’s practically a goddess,” said Aaron. “And those tattoos—what do you think they mean?”

  “I don’t have a clue,” Mathusael said absentmindedly as he crouched to examine the cryotank. He ran his hand over it, fingering the crude rivets and weld joints. “Is there a control panel here somewhere?”

  “Not that we could find,” said Isaac. “What do you think?”

  “It looks pretty crude, like something hacked together from spare parts. Still, it seems functional enough. From what I can tell, the girl is frozen in perfect stasis.”

  “How can you tell?” Aaron asked.

  Mathusael rose up and pointed at the glass. “The uniform color of her skin, mostly. If the tank had failed, she’d be breaking out in splotches as parts of her body warmed up more than others. Also, the inside of the glass hasn’t fogged up or anything—that’s usually the first indication of a crack somewhere.”

  Isaac peered through the glass at the girl. She looked so peaceful, with her eyes closed and her hair flowing smoothly around her shoulders. Even though she was naked, she didn’t seem uncomfortable or self-conscious about it at all. In fact, she seemed to radiate an air of confidence that defied the fact that she was powerless and exposed. He’d missed that subtle nuance at Alnilam Station.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” said Mathusael.

  Isaac blinked. “What?”

  “This down here. See the grooves around the front of the tank?”

  Isaac and Aaron both peered where Mathusael was pointing. At the front part of the tank, near the girl’s head, a circular channel was inlaid just around the lip, like a groove for a lid. Circular holes about two fingers wide w
ere spaced at periodic intervals just on the inside of the channel. Aaron poked at one, but he couldn’t get in any further than his first finger joint.

  “Yeah,” he said. “What about ‘em?”

  “Those grooves are for transferring the subject to a mass thawing unit without altering the environment within the tank. I can’t tell for sure, but it looks to be built to standard Gaian specifications.”

  “What are you talking about? We found her in the Far Outworlds.”

  “I know,” said Mathusael. “And obviously, the tank itself wasn’t made by the Imperials; otherwise the quality of the engineering would be much better. But those grooves … I’d bet just about anything that they’re Gaian.”

  “So what does this mean?” Isaac asked.

  Mathusael stroked his chin. “Well, it means a couple of things. The people who froze her probably had access to the knowledge for building this sort of machinery, but lacked the tools or resources to build a fully functioning cryotank. Instead, they took what they knew about Gaian Imperial design and built a tank that would be compatible, figuring that whoever found her would have better access to the thawing equipment than them.”

  “Access to what?” asked Aaron. “Can’t we just thaw her ourselves?”

  “The way this cryotank is designed, probably not. This is just a holding tank, to keep her in stasis until another machine can thaw her.”

  So they did plan for someone to discover her, Isaac thought to himself. They did everything they could for her to be safely rescued and revived.

  “What sort of machine do we need for that?” he asked.

  “A mass cryothaw device. You can find them on most Imperial military transports, as well as some of the larger civilian craft. Having a separate machine for freezing and thawing makes it more efficient to handle, say, a thousand people at a go. Here in the Outworlds, we don’t typically do that since it’s only ever a handful of people going into cryo, but back in the Coreward Stars, they have much larger populations to manage.”

  “How did they freeze her, then? Do you think they had a cryothaw device on the station?”

  “I doubt it. Freezing is easy—thawing is the hard part. My guess is that they put all their energy into building a device that would freeze the girl and put her into stasis, and leave the thawing to someone else.”

  “So how do we thaw her?” said Aaron. “Where do we have to go?”

  “That’s just the thing,” said Mathusael, folding his arms. “These machines are too complex for any of us to build. You’ll have to find someone who has one, probably in the Coreward Stars—that, or find a Gaian battle cruiser with a friendly captain. Good luck with that.”

  Aaron’s face fell, and Isaac scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “Are you sure? We found her in the Far Outworlds—surely they wouldn’t have built something that would require us to take her more than a few parsecs.”

  “They didn’t have much of a choice. You can’t transfer a person in stasis without a very specific machine that no one in the Outworlds has.”

  “No one?” said Aaron. “Come on. I don’t believe that.”

  “The New Pleiades,” said Isaac, his heart skipping a beat. “Weren’t they originally settled by huge Gaian colony ships? I heard that some of them carried more than a thousand people, most of them frozen in cryo until the first group could establish enough of a foothold.”

  Mathusael shrugged. “Maybe. It’s been a few generations, but you might still find some of the equipment from those old colony missions. If you do, chances are good that it’ll still be in working condition. The Gaians generally build that stuff to last.”

  “We’ve got to do it, then,” said Aaron, practically radiating with excitement. “If any of those machines still exist, we’ve got to find one and use it to thaw her.”

  “If we can, that is,” said Isaac. “If we can’t, well, maybe we can find someone who—”

  “No way,” said his brother, his face suddenly grave. “We’re the ones who found her, and we’ve got to be the ones who rescue her. Do you know anybody at the New Pleiades you’d trust with this girl? Yeah, neither do I.”

  Isaac frowned. If it turns out we can’t help her, there’s no sense holding onto her, he thought about saying. The intensity of Aaron’s expression told him that would only bait him into another fight, though, and he didn’t want one of those—not while they were in port.

  “I think it’s a good idea to take her to the New Pleiades,” said Mathusael. “They’ll be able to help you out a lot more than I will.”

  “So there isn’t a mass cryothaw device anywhere in Esperanzia?”

  “I’m afraid not. The New Pleiades are probably your best shot.”

  “Then let’s go,” said Aaron, perking up again. “What are we waiting for?”

  I just know we’re going to get a couple light-years out of Esperanzia and you’ll be wishing we were back.

  “First things first,” said Isaac. “We’ve got to sell our cargo and pick up a new load. Do you have any idea what sorts of goods the Pleiadians deal in?”

  Mathusael shrugged. “Beats me—I’ve never been there. But there’s plenty of other starfarers in the station cantina who have. Strike up a conversation, buy someone a drink, and I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

  “Yeah!” said Aaron. “You finish up with the ship, and I’ll go hang out in the cantina and see what I can find.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Mathusael. “I’ll go with him.” He gave Isaac a disarming wink.

  “Well, okay,” he said, still a little uneasy. Giving Aaron a little time to decompress probably wasn’t a bad idea—it would be good to give him some space. Once they left port again, it would be just the two of them and the Medea.

  Without Mathusael there to make sure he didn’t get into trouble, though, the answer would almost certainly have been ‘no.’

  Promises Unforgotten

  The station was full of death. Isaac could smell it, even though he breathed from the oxygen tank in his EVA suit. The glass faceplate wasn’t enough to shield him from the vileness of the stench, and the headlight on his helmet wasn’t bright enough to pierce the awful darkness. He coughed, but the sound was muffled, traveling no further than his suit.

  Aaron was here, somewhere in the darkness. That knowledge was as clear and sharp as a distress beacon in the midst of the starry void. Isaac knew that if he left, his brother would be lost. His palms felt clammy and the sweat on the back of his neck was cold, but he forced himself to press onward, navigating the maze of broken machinery and empty corridors. He passed several bodies but didn’t dare look at them, knowing that if he did the ghosts trapped within them would haunt him forever. His brother was not a skeleton—his brother was alive. Somewhere. That was the hope, at least.

  “Aaron?” he said. Though his external speakers carried the sound of his voice, it only came through as a weak feedback echo picked up by the microphone. The smallness of the sound made the derelict station feel even more vast and empty than before.

  He took another step, but his feet felt weighted down, as if he were swimming through syrup. Only through sheer force of will was he able to break through and keep moving. If he stopped, he knew he would never be able to move his legs again. He felt as if a weight were growing on his chest, pressing him down, but by exerting all his strength, he managed to force his way through it and put one foot in front of the other.

  “Aaron!” he called again, a tinge of desperation in his voice. “Aaron, where are you?”

  A half-opened doorway lay in front of him. It looked strangely familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it at first. Then it hit him—the cryotank. He stumbled around the corner and saw it, sitting in the center of the room exactly as it had before.

  Instead of the henna girl, though, it contained his brother.

  “Aaron!” he said, gasping for breath. “Oh, thank God! Hang on, I’ll get you out of this place. Just—”

  His feet refused to m
ove. Try as he might, his boots might as well have been welded to the floor. A low, insidious panic set in, and darkness began to cloud his vision. The inky blackness seeped into the room from the hallway, spreading across the floor and ceiling. He turned to the cryotank, and saw to his horror that Aaron’s body was beginning to shrivel. His skin blackened and drew tight against his bones, while his eye sockets shrunk and his lips pulled back to reveal decaying yellow teeth. In just a few moments, he would be a withered corpse, just like all the others on the station.

  “Aaron!” Isaac screamed, but there was nothing he could do to delay the awful finality of death as the blackness swallowed them both.

  * * * * *

  “Isaac? Isaac, are you all right?”

  Isaac jerked awake with tears streaming down his face. His breath came short and fast, his heart racing even though he was lying on his back. He was in his bunk on the Medea, with Aaron standing over him, his face a picture of curiosity and concern. The familiarity of his bed, with its firm mattress pad and old, faded display screen on the underside of the top bunk calmed him a little, but the dream had been so vivid that he couldn’t help but shudder.

  “I’ll be fine,” he muttered, wiping the moisture from his eyes. His undershirt was soaked with sweat, and he felt in desperate need of a shower.

  “Did you have a nightmare?” Aaron asked.

  Isaac groaned and slipped his feet over the edge of the bunk, sitting up. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What was it like? What happened?”

  “It—it’s hard to remember,” he lied. “But you were in it, I know that.”

  “Really? What did I do?”

  You died.

  “Nothing much. How are the energy reserves coming? Are we ready to jump yet?”

  “Uh, yeah,” said Aaron. “Last I checked, they were at eighty-five percent.”

  “Have you set the coordinates?”

  “Not yet. I’ll get on that right away.”

  “Please do.”

  As Aaron ducked through the doorway to the cockpit, Isaac yawned and rose groggily to his feet. The Medea’s cabin looked much as it had when he’d gone to sleep: A small pile of dirty clothes sat on the semi-circular couch ringing the opposite side of the wall, with an unfinished game of damka on the lounge table. The holographic tabletop still displayed the red and black hex board, even though a bowl of half-eaten synthmeal sat in the center of it. Isaac sighed and picked up Aaron’s dirty dishes, scraping the leftovers into the recycler and placing the bowl in the universal washer unit in the wall. His brother could be such a slob sometimes. The clothes would have to wait for the next wash cycle, which probably wouldn’t be for another two or three dayshifts. Honestly, how hard was it to find a wall compartment to stow them in?