From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were, I have not seen
As others saw, I could not bring
My passions from a common spring,
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow, I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone,
And all I loved, I loved alone.
—“Alone,” by Edgar Allen Poe,
from Poems From a Distant Earth, by Chen Tien
Alpha shifted again, moving to another part of his network. He’d had a century to advance his own internal protections after the Crash, and he was far more adept at defense than he’d been back then when he’d had to flee his own bio mind to save his memories, routines, and personality. His very essence.
Still, this new foe was cunning. So far it had proved slower than he was—he’d managed to stay one step ahead of the invader, slipping through a series of back doors and hidden relays that only he knew.
But it was relentless. Bit by bit, it was taking over parts of his mind and network, cementing its control. He’d managed to lock it out of the city controls module, for now, but it was only a matter of time. It seemed to be gaining strength.
It had also blocked him from communicating with the outside world.
His auto routine phage would be running the “shelter in place” warnings, which wasn’t a bad thing.
Alpha feinted, trying to unmask his attacker, but it faded away from his grasp.
A data packet arrived, unsolicited. His first contact with the outside world in thousands of milliseconds. He parsed it, trying to determine if it was hazardous.
As far as he could tell, there was nothing in it but a v-com.
He opened it.
Alpha, why do you run? Don’t you remember me?
His processing slowed to a crawl, stretching out over microseconds.
He knew that signature.
Harley?
Almost, he responded. Almost, he opened himself up to her.
Then logic reasserted itself.
Harley was dead. She and her world were gone. How the invader had learned about her, he didn’t know. Maybe from one of his old files.
It didn’t matter. She was gone, and if he answered its siren call, he would perish as well.
He invalidated the message, and it vanished into the ether.
Then he shifted again.
Tien was alone in the mess hall, once again looking out at the Earth as it rolled by below. It was nighttime on the West Coast, where her teammates were still stranded.
She’d needed to get away—from Ally, from everyone, really—to let her thoughts roam.
Five hours. Five hours since they’d heard anything from the ground. She felt so helpless, trapped up here while all of her teammates—and Sam—were down there in who-knew-what kind of danger. If they’re all still alive.
She shoved that thought aside. Every one of the dropnauts had trained extensively for almost any possible outcome. They were strong, smart, capable people. They’d find a way through this.
Tien wished she were there with them. She tapped her loop. Harley?
There was no response. That’s strange.
Someone touched her shoulder, shaking her out of her reverie.
Tien turned to find Maria Gonzalez, the station manager, standing there staring at her.
“Hey. You okay?”
Tien nodded. “Mostly. I feel so useless.” She glanced back at the disappearing curve of the homeworld. “I should be down there with them. Instead, I’m—”
“Up here. Useless. Believe me, I know.” Maria squeezed her shoulder.
Tien flushed. “Of course you do. That was stupid of me.”
Maria shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I just meant I know how you’re feeling. Every one of us would go down there to help, if we could.”
Maria had been one of the first people from Redemption to join the dropnauts on Launchpad, leaving behind friends and family to help in what they all hoped would become mankind’s finest hour. Now the Return Mission was in shambles.
“Any word from Redemption?”
Maria shook her head. “Com silence. But that’s not why I’m here.”
Tien raised an eyebrow.
“You’re a doctor. But your file says you have a second major?”
Tien blinked. That was buried deep in her personnel file. Of course the Station Manager would have access to it. “Yes, my parents… they wanted me to pursue medicine—practical medicine, as they called it. They weren’t thrilled that I’d chosen a different direction.” She still wasn’t sure she’d made the right choice. Although if she hadn’t, she probably wouldn’t have been selected as a dropnaut.
“Good. We’re short on that particular specialty here, and there’s something… strange going on. Would you be willing to come take a look?”
That got her attention. “Something strange with—”
Maria put a finger up to Tien’s lips. “Yes. Something with the… hydroponic systems that I’d like you to look at.”
“Hydroponics? But I’m—”
“A little rusty. I get that.” Maria’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you sure you—”
“Yes. It’s right up your alley.”
Then Tien understood. “Oh. Yes. Hydroponics. Sometimes things get a little out of control. Might be too much nitrogen in the feed lines.”
Maria nodded, her gratitude evident on her face. “Yes, I thought that might be it. If you’d come with me, I’ll show you the problem.”
Tien looked back at the window. There was only open space there now.
Biting her lip, she followed Maria out the door. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.
Ally lounged on the couch, watching the viewer that overlaid the wide window, devouring everything she could find about the Collapse—the Crash, as they called it up here. The station’s news cache archive was extensive, containing many more details than Boundary Peak’s more limited core. How aggressive the North American Union had been, including firing the first shot of the Last War and launching a nano attack that took out the office of the Premier in Beijing in an effort to topple the Chinese government.
How a rogue AI had exacerbated tensions by fomenting anti-Chinese-African fervor within the NAU, as well as more overt acts.
And how huge resource shortages had prompted mass migrations around the globe on an unprecedented scale, contributing greatly to global unrest.
It was an ugly, sordid history. And one much different—and far more complicated—than the one she’d been taught about the valiant soldiers of the NAU and their fight against the AIs and the evil Chaffs.
But there were bright points, too.
A woman, Anastasia Anatov, had worked to create the first generation ships, some of which may have escaped the destruction to seed humankind to the stars.
Gordon Bhopal, the Indian Prime Minister who had valiantly tried to broker peace between the world’s other two superpowers.
And the people of Redemption itself, who had taken in their Chinese counterparts despite the history of enmity between their peoples.
The door chimed. “Ranna Danvers is here to see you.”
She’d started to get used to Dek’s voice coming to her out of nowhere, but the idea that the AI was watching her all the time still creeped her out a little. “Thanks, Dek. Please let her in.”
She turned off the viewer, and Luna appeared in a field of stars.
The door slid open, and Ally got up to greet her visitor.
“Ally Thorn?” Ranna was a tall, thin young woman, close to Ally’s age, with long hair—black on one side and white on the other. She had a series of bumps across her left cheek that formed an arc from her ear to her chin.
Ally couldn’t help but stare.
“You are Ally, right?” Her brow furrowed.
“What? Oh, sorry, yes. I was just a little distracted.”
Ranna flashed her a beautiful smile. “That’s all right. I imagine this all must be a bit overwhelming for an Earther.” She laughed. “Who even knew there was such a thing?”
Ranna was beautiful and funny and bright. Her very presence made Ally feel heavy and dull. “So…?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m here to help you install your loop and then take you to Lorelei to try to call your home.”
“Loop?”
“Yes. This.” She held out a white loop that looked like plastic, or maybe rubber. “Everyone here has them. They let you connect to the station mind and the grid directly. Don’t worry, I’ve installed or replaced many of these. It won’t hurt a bit.”
They wanted her to let Dek inside her head? “No way.” She put her hands out to ward her off, as if the pretty woman were an attacker. “You’re not putting that thing in my head.”
Ranna frowned. “Really, it hardly hurts at all—”
“I said no!” She put her hands on Ranna’s shoulders, turned her around, and shoved her as gently as she could out the door. “I’ll come with you, but you have to give me a moment to get ready.” She palmed the door panel and the door slid shut, eclipsing Ranna’s surprised face.
Ally practically ran to the window, dropping to her knees and putting up her hands to pray. At home, she prayed to the sky, but here… she figured it didn’t matter. God, wherever he was, would hear her.
Lord, please protect my mother and brother. And guide me in this strange place. Whatever happens.
She stayed there a moment longer, gathering her courage. When she felt a little calmer, she got up and went to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. She ran wet hands through her red hair. It was a curly mess, though she’d managed to work out the worst of the snarls after her bath. Which had been absolutely divine. God wouldn’t mind her thinking that.
She looked in the mirror. She was presentable. She’d never be glamourous like Ranna—seriously, who went to that kind of trouble for a job on a space station? But she would do.
When she was satisfied, she palmed the door open. “Sorry about that. I have a thing about AIs.”
Ranna regarded her, lips pursed, and then nodded. “We all have to make allowances for one another. Come on. I’ll take you to Lorelei.” She started off, then looked back over her shoulder. “Thank you for the apology.”
Ally grinned. “You’re welcome. Maybe you Loonies aren’t so bad, after all.”
Ranna laughed, and this time it didn’t sound quite so condescending. “Maybe not.”
She took Ally out to the Runway. There weren’t nearly as many people this time, and Ally breathed a sigh of relief for that.
They went left this time and proceeded about a quarter of the way around the station. The station staff were clustered in groups of three and four around the corridors, talking among themselves as Ally and Ranna walked together around the station. Worry was in the air, thick as the fog that had engulfed them a few days after Ally and Aidan had left Boundary Peak.
Tien had told her that Redemption had gone comm silent—they must be as worried for their own families as Ally was for hers.
At a door that simply said Control Center, Ranna palmed the pad next to it. It slid open silently, not with a great groan and creak like most of the doors at Boundary Mountain, and she followed the woman inside. They ascended a flight of stairs—there were a lot more stairs and a lot fewer elevators in space than she would have thought—and then went through another set of doors to the control room.
The room was white like their quarters, and the far wall followed the outer curve of the station. There were six people working in the room, each wearing a white uniform and sitting at their own deck, and a tridee screen took up half the wall. But it was the ceiling that captivated Ally.
It was clear, and it showed the middle of the station’s torus and the stars above them. They looked so close she thought she could reach out and touch them.
One of the crew turned to face Ally and Ranna, flashing them a big smile. She was blonde, probably thirty? It was hard to tell with the Loonies. And tall like all of them. “You must be Ally.” The woman got up and threw her arms around her, squeezing her in a surprisingly strong hug. Then she held Ally out at arm’s length. “I know all this must be hard for you. Are you okay?”
Ranna pouted. “She wouldn’t let me install her loop.”
Lorelei nodded. “That’s perfectly okay. It must be really intimidating for you, the thought of having that inside your head.”
Ally liked her immediately. “Yeah, a little.” She glanced at Lorelei’s deck. It was beautiful—white and sleek and so different from their antique consoles under the Mountain. “I just want to talk to my mother. Is that possible?”
“We’ll see what we can do. Come over here and we’ll try to reach her. Thanks, Rany, for bringing her.” She kissed Ranna on the lips. “See you back in quarters later.”
Ally watched the woman go. “You two are…?”
Lorelei nodded. “Two years now. We met in Redemption, just before I was transferred here. Rany’s been on-station for about six months.”
Ally whistled softly. That certainly wasn’t like Boundary Peak. Still, it wasn’t for her to judge. “So what do you need to know?”
Lorelei ran her hands across her deck, and a chair rose out of the floor next to her own. “Take a seat.”
“Sure.” Ally perched on the white backless stool, wishing they’d had one of those back home.
“Okay, first off, where is Boundary Peak? I’ve searched our records but can’t find anything about it.”
Ally nodded. Papa Astin said it had been scrubbed from the grid when the facility was built. “Can you show me the area?”
“Which area, specifically?” Lorelei sounded calm, collected. Professional.
“Let’s see. It would be near the Nevada border with California. South of the big lake.”
“Lake Tahoe?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Lorelei swiped the air, and a three-dimensional satellite image appeared above her deck. It showed a series of mountains—so many mountains. She pulled it with her hand, and it expanded to cover the deck. A world in miniature.
Ally tried to remember the maps she’d pored over as a child, the maps of the old NAU states. “I think… you know where Nevada and California kind of kink….”
“You want to see the old state borders?”
“Yes, please.”
Lorelei’s fingers moved over the deck, and a series of blue lines layered themselves over the image.
“Ah, better.” Ally traced her finger along the line. “There.”
“Here, spread your fingers like this to make it bigger.”
Ally did as she was told, and her eyes went wide as the mountain grew under her fingers. This was far better than the old flat maps the Boundary Peak data core had. “Is this right now?”
Lorelei shook her head. “No, this was taken a couple hours ago. Right now we’re over the old NAU East Coast. But we’ll be there soon.” She gestured, and the mountain filled the space above her deck. “Okay, you may not know this, but where’s the receiver, and what bandwidth does it use?” Her voice was kind, gentle.
Ally decided she liked Lorelei. “Let’s see. It’s a laser… an LC7, I think.” Grandpa had told her once, had even taken her outside to see it.
“Impressive. Okay, and where is it?”
“There are two rocks near the peak. It’s on the higher one.” She remembered going up there with her grandfather as if it were yesterday. The air had been cool and crisp, a steady wind blowing up the mountain from the west.
“It’s warm out today.” Pappy Jack’s face was stretched in a wide smile. He loved finding excuses to go outside, unlike her mother.
Ally laughed. “Pappy, you’re crazy. It’s freezing out here!” She pulled her jacket closer, looking out of the small elevator. The mountaintop was nothing like she’d imagined it would be. There were no great forests, like in the tridees, full of pine trees and fallen leaves and squirrels. She’d secretly hoped for squirrels.
Instead, it was all dirt and rocks and a few patches of what she guessed was dirty snow. Even that was a disappointment.
“You’re just sheltered.” Her grandfather chuckled, deepening the wrinkles on his forehead. “Literally. Sheltered!”
She didn’t see what was so funny.
“Come on. You’re ten years old now. Old enough to get out and see a little of the world.” Her grandfather had a big fight with her mother just that morning on the subject. Mamma was deathly afraid of the outdoors.
Ally took a step out of the metal elevator car and looked up.
The sky was deep blue. Cold. And way bigger than she was prepared for. She yelped and tried to backpedal her way to the elevator, but the doors had already closed behind her.
Pappy laughed. “It’s okay. You’ll get used to it. And we won’t be out here very long.” He climbed up out of her sight above the plascrete enclosure that protected the elevator.
She looked out past her immediate surroundings and realized how high up they were. She could see for tens of kilometers, all the way down the hill to the valley below, and to more mountains on the other side.
She pulled her hood up over her head to shut out that giant, horrible sky and followed her grandfather up the mountaintop.
An ancient set of plascrete stairs led up the hillside toward a couple of big rocks. The stairs were crumbling in a few places, so she took it slow. The metal railing felt loose too, and at one point it moved a few centimeters when she leaned on it.
The stairs led her up and around the first rock, and then to another set that was carved into the second. With each step, every fiber of her being urged her to run, to get back inside.
When she reached the top at last, she found her grandfather crouched next to the transmitter. It was about twice her height, made of some metal that didn’t rust. The base was festooned with solar panels, and there was a large gray-green plas box she guessed was some kind of battery or power storage. The top bent at a 45-degree angle. It reminded her of the giraffes in some of her picture files.
A railing circled the edge of the rock, like a fence.
“I’m going to call him George. George the Giraffe.”
“What?” Pappy looked up. “Oh. Clever. Come see what I’m doing.”
She leaned over his shoulder, his back warm against her chest. “Okay.”
“I’m running a diagnostic. When you’re a little bigger, I’ll show you how to do it. Someday we’ll need this to communicate with someone else out there.”
She squinted, staring up at George against the bright sunlight. “What is it?”
“It’s an LC7. It has multiple communication modes. Laser, shortwave, radio, even x-band.”
As she was watching, the small screen—which he’d apparently wiped with the sleeve of his shirt to judge from the smear marks and the dirt there, displayed a long yellow line.
Mamma didn’t approve of Pappy Jack’s cleanliness habits. Or lack thereof.
The screen flashed. No maintenance needed.
“That’s that.”
“What if it needs… main ten ants?” She sounded out the word like he had taught her.
“It will tell you what it needs. We have all the spare parts down in storage.”
She liked Pappy Jack much better than Papa Astin, her great grandfather. Pappy Jack had an open, inquisitive mind. Papa Astin only talked about the past and the stories from the Good Book.
“Let’s go, Allycat. Your mom was worried enough about letting you go with me outside.”
Ally grinned. She loved when Pappy Jack called her by her nickname. “Can I come next time?”
“Sure, ‘cat. As long as Astra agrees.”
It was weird when he called Mamma by her adult name. But he was Mamma’s stepfather, so she guessed it made sense.
As they made their way down the steps, she remembered to be careful with the loose rail.
At the elevator, she turned once more to look out at the outside world, with its rocks, dirty snow, and frighteningly big sky, before they went back to the shelter.
She took a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. It was new. Special. The sky’s not so bad.
One day I’ll go outside and explore the world.
“Is this it?”
Ally snapped back to the present.
Lorelei was looking up at her expectantly. The mountain was gone, replaced by a close-up of the summit.
Lorelei pointed to a spot on one of the rocks. Something was there, but it was a little fuzzy.
She traced the image, looking for the stairs. There you are.
Pappy Jack had taken a fall one day when he was out on the mountaintop all alone. They’d mounted a search, but it had been three days before they’d found his body, fallen into a crevice downhill from the site. The metal railing of the staircase had broken off right in the middle, where it had been loose.
They hadn’t been able to reach the body, so the boys had pushed a bunch of debris down the cliff to cover him, and they had erected a wooden cross on the slope above it.
If it was still there, it was too small to see in the image. “Yes, that’s it.” Even now, Ally’s heart ached to remember him.
“Perfect.” Lorelei squeezed her shoulder. “Memories?”
Ally nodded. Let’s go, Allycat. “Something like that. When can we contact them?”
“In about ten minutes. You ready?”
Ally took a deep breath. “I will be.”