Legacy Code Page 2

Era clutched the stiff blanket under her. “Is the president…?”

  “The president and board were in session, and their chamber locked down. I don’t think there were any deaths. But there were some injuries before…before the breach got temp-sealed. Guards.”

  “I saw them come in on medlevel. What happened? I thought they scanned for hull damage a few months ago and fixed all the weak areas.”

  “They did.”

  “How could they miss this?”

  Dritan bit his lower lip and twisted the canteen in his hands. “It wasn’t missed. New panels were just installed in that sector.”

  “But if they were new…”

  Dritan shifted on the bunk and leaned forward to set the canteen back on the shelf.

  “I don’t get it,” Era said. “There shouldn’t have been a breach in a new section of the hull.”

  Dritan shrugged, not meeting her gaze.

  Era moved closer to him and laid a hand on his arm. “What are you not telling me?”

  Dritan finally looked at her and hesitated, studying her face. “Some people are saying it might not have been an accident.”

  “Not an accident? What? Like…”

  Like the breach that happened on the Oslo? Traitors had blown out a water tank, and it took the fleet months to recover. Era grew thirsty just remembering the way the canteen faucets had run dry at the end of it all. But the Paragon was safe. Nothing like that had ever happened here.

  Dritan grabbed Era’s hand. “They’re just jumping to conclusions. They don’t know anything. Bunch of execs and guards with no experience in maintenance. Trust me. Everyone in maintenance thinks either the panels or the rivets were weak, or warped. That’s all it would take.”

  “Weak metal? So…what? You think they’ll blame this on the London?”

  He drew up her chin and met her eyes. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. It’s over.”

  “Yeah, unless they send your crew out to fix it. I don’t know how you managed to avoid hull duty for so long, but let’s hope your luck holds.”

  How had he managed to avoid hull duty?

  He stiffened, but then his eyes brightened, and he raised his eyebrows. “Hey, maybe they’ll send me to compost next. I’ll bring the fine aroma of kak back to the cubic every night. You’ll be ready to change my suit out for spacegear in no time.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding and gave him a half-smile. “Guess I should watch what I wish for.”

  Dritan reached down and unzipped the pocket on his pant leg. He pulled out a folded square of pale green cloth. “Found this in textile recyc today.”

  Era took it. “Exec-standard bedding.” She sighed. It was plush, soft, smooth. Only the most senior command level families got this bedding. Era used to go to Zephyr’s cubic just to lie on her bunk.

  “You know you can’t keep this. It has to go back to recyc. We’ll be in trouble if they catch us with it. And why’d you take it? It’s just a scrap.”

  Dritan plucked the cloth from her hand and unfolded it, spreading it across his lap. He picked up one edge and wiped the soft material along Era’s cheek. “It’s not big enough for us, but it’s just the right size—for someone smaller.”

  Era’s chest lightened, and she pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. “Fine. Just…make sure you hide it.”

  Dritan grinned and set the scrap aside. He pulled her down onto the bunk and took her hand. He stroked her palm, and she stared at their distorted reflections in the metal ceiling.

  If they got through these repairs, if they finished the jumpgate and jumped the fleet, if their baby was healthy and didn’t have the Defect…if all that happened, life would be perfect, or as close as it ever could be. She’d live here on the flagship with her family, searching for a better world, far away from Soren.

  Dritan squeezed her hand, three quick pulses. She rolled toward him, met his eyes, and squeezed his hand three times in return. I. Love. You.

  A smile played across his full lips, and he brought her closer, laying both their hands over the swell of her belly.

  Would their child have his dark skin or her lighter complexion? Any child of his would be beautiful. She snuggled closer.

  Too many ifs. Too soon to think about this. Just cells, Era.

  “It’s probably almost second shift,” Dritan said. “Shouldn’t ya get going?”

  Era groaned and sat up. “Yeah. I told Zephyr I’d meet her before shift.”

  “Well, I need to clean up and get to mess before it ends anyway. Just don’t let her get you into any trouble.”

  Era leaned in and kissed him again. “I was really worried about you.”

  “I’m okay, and you are too. Go on. I’ll see you at last mess.”

  She got up, walked to the door, and hit the button. She held her breath, expecting it to jam like it always did, but this time it opened.

  Era stepped into the corridor. Fumes from burnt plastic filled her lungs, and she coughed. The pair of workers she’d passed earlier argued in front of the source of the scent—a stretch of wall now marred by singed wires and blackened components.

  Era breathed through her mouth until she reached the stairs. Dritan was safe this time and this hull breach had been temp-sealed, but how long would it be until the next thing went wrong?

  ∞ ∞

  Era approached level six, and traffic in the main stairwell slowed to a crawl. Several guards stood outside the doors, blocking the landing. One spoke into his comcuff, and the others watched the passing colonists.

  These were new guards. The deep blue fabric of their suits was unfaded, and the silver infinity symbols printed on each sleeve smooth and uncracked. The Paragon Guard had grown a lot in the ten months since Era had transferred here.

  Her gaze fell to the nearest guard, to the pulse gun holstered at his belt, and the hairs on the back of her neck lifted. Zephyr’s father had a few pulse guns on the bridge of the London, but she’d only seen them once. The day of the riots.

  The Paragon hadn’t rioted, though. The guards here had kept the people safe.

  When she’d finished crossing the landing, she let out a breath and started up the next flight of stairs. The crowd thinned as she approached the observation deck.

  Era swiped her card across the scanner, and when the system verified she had free shift, the doors slid open.

  Soren loomed across the horizon, the swirling dark-red clouds of its atmosphere warning of the noxious air below.

  The jumpgate hung off to the side of the planet. Only half the massive metal circle was complete—extra, unused parts still moored to the work ship.

  Era forced herself to look away. That thing was responsible for her father’s death. But without it, they’d never be able to open a wormhole and jump the fleet to their next destination. They’d be stuck here forever.

  The fleet had jumped five times since it’d fled Earth three hundred years ago, and each jump had, quite literally, been a leap of faith. Maybe their next one would land them in a system with a new Earth. There’d be no way to know until they got there.

  After each jump, the fleet had traveled for decades to find a resource-rich planet to mine so they could repair their ships and build the next jumpgate. The planets they’d found had always been uninhabitable, had always been toxic like Soren.

  She glanced again at the red planet and shuddered. Thousands of colonists had died mining it. The sooner they left this place, the better.

  Era scanned the deck for Zephyr. It was nearly deserted this close to the end of midbreak.

  Zephyr sat on one of the worn metal benches in front of the expanse. Long red-blond hair cascaded down her back, and her hand moved rhythmically in front of her.

  Era shook her head. Zephyr never would’ve used her handheld on the London’s observation deck. People would’ve swarmed her to get a look at the tech only the captain’s daughter had personal access to.

  No one even blinked an eye on the Paragon. Maybe it was
because they seemed to have most of the fleet’s ancient stockpile of handhelds at their disposal.

  Zephyr made a fist, and a light melody began to play, her recorded vocals layered over it.

  A straight line from first breath to last.

  This recycled air remembers all the lies told in its past.

  Sins of the father, that’s what they say.

  That’s how life goes, what we’re living today.

  There’s more than this; I feel it.

  Drifting through this useless existence,

  Held down by artificial gravity.

  Era sat on the bench and winced against the sharp pain that shot through her lower abdomen. Her pregnancy pains got worse every day.

  Zephyr made a fist to shut the holo off and deactivated her eyepiece.

  “I like it,” Era said. “Kinda dark, but…”

  A hint of a smile crossed Zephyr’s lips. “Well, it’s not done yet.”

  Her gaze flicked to Era’s stomach.

  “Scanner wasn’t working. Had to get an amnio. That needle’s a lot bigger than you’d think.”

  Zephyr grimaced. “I don’t want to know. You hear what happened in executive?”

  “Dritan’s crew helped with the evac.”

  “Really.” Zephyr looked over her shoulder at the deck and leaned closer. “Don’t you think it’s a little strange that the breach just happened to be in the same corridor where the president and board meet?”

  Era shifted on the bench. “Dritan didn’t mention that.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Well…he said something might’ve been wrong with the panels. They were new.”

  Zephyr crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, I’d like to see them try to lay this on my father. The London hasn’t failed a qual scan since we got here.”

  Era raised her brows. Zephyr defending her father? This was new.

  The London had passed all its quality scans, but if Dritan thought it was the panels, it probably was. She opened her mouth to say so but clamped it shut.

  Zephyr’s light blue eyes had taken on a glassy sheen. She sniffed and angled her face away.

  What could be bad enough to make her cry? Era hadn’t seen her cry in years.

  When they were seven or eight, Zephyr had talked Era into stealing tech gear to explore parts of the ship they couldn’t get to on their own. But instead, they’d gotten locked in a storage cubic for an entire day.

  They’d both cried in the dark, thirsty and scared, until someone found them. Zephyr had a half-truth ready, but Era blurted out the whole story, like usual. Zephyr had gotten the brunt of that punishment. Also like usual.

  Zephyr looked at the empty deck again, lips pressed together, and faced Era. If there’d been tears, they were gone now. “I asked my mother about the jumpgate,” she said. “Comms came during first shift.”

  Era straightened, one hand over her stomach. “She sent a message? Will it be done soon?”

  “The jumpgate sector’s been shut down. All the orders coming in are for panels.”

  “Maybe they need the panels to fix the ships—”

  “No.” Zephyr stood and walked to the viewing area. She drew her fingers along the glass, tracing Soren’s barren landscape. “Almost all the incoming orders are for Soren.”

  The saliva evaporated from Era’s mouth. “But…why? The president said the subcity was finished.”

  “They have to be expanding it,” Zephyr said, her voice low. “Why else would they send everything down there?”

  Expansion would mean drafting more workers, but how many more workers could the fleet really spare?

  The Paragon was exempt from the work draft, but the dekas weren’t. Maintenance crews from the sublevels had been drafted first. Dritan would have been sent down if he’d turned eighteen on the London.

  Maybe Zephyr’s father wasn’t the best, but he’d gotten Era and Dritan placements here and had probably saved Dritan’s life. Mining was dangerous enough, but they had equipment for that. Carving a livable subcity through rocky soil on a planet riddled with quakes had proven even deadlier.

  Era shook her head. “But why would they expand it? There’s no reason—”

  “Don’t you see?” Zephyr said, drawing the words out. “We’re never leaving Soren.”

  A loud laugh bubbled up from Era’s throat, and she choked it back. The fleet hadn’t traveled for three hundred years just to die out on a planet worse than the one they’d left. Soren wasn’t the first resource-rich planet, and it wouldn’t be the last. “That doesn’t even make sense. They can’t expect us to abandon our ships and settle here. We can’t live down there.”

  “My parents have talked about it before,” Zephyr said. “What if the fleet can’t survive another jump? Our ships are falling apart.”

  “No one wants to stay here. The president will—”

  “The president will what? Save us all? The president does what’s good for the president.”

  “Don’t say that.” Era glanced over her shoulder to the empty deck.

  To live and die on a planet where she’d never see the stars again—to raise a child surrounded by metal walls, no view of the beauty in space, no hope for a better world ahead…

  The fleet would never stay here.

  Era stood up. “Come on. We’re gonna be late for shift. You need to stop at your bunk?”

  Zephyr sniffed and didn’t move. “No.”

  “If Mali catches you with outside tech again…”

  “Then what?” Zephyr slid her handheld and eyepiece into a pocket on the leg of her suit and zippered it shut. “It’s not like I use it in there. It’s an idiotic rule.” She strode toward the doors.

  Era sighed and followed her. If Zephyr didn’t learn to keep her mouth shut, she’d end up on a forced dose of grimp to regulate her mood. The algae would deaden her senses, make her someone else. Medlevel seemed to prescribe it a lot on this ship.

  But Zephyr did tend to say the things other people thought but that no one was brave—or stupid—enough to say. But this time, she was wrong. There had to be a good explanation for why the panels were being shipped to Soren.

  The fleet wouldn’t stay here.

  The tension left Era’s body the moment she stepped through the repository doors.

  At the far end of the space, rows of tall, silver boxes gleamed from their place behind the glass barrier. The archives took up half the level, and each box contained hundreds of small data storage cubes.

  Only the president and board had access to the archival cubes. The data on them was too important, too fragile. But the knowledge would be used to restart civilization once the fleet found New Earth. Humanity’s future.

  Era and Zephyr passed by benches filled with colonists waiting their turn to record messages for loved ones or to view the comms that had arrived for them from other ships.

  “Fucking glitch,” Zephyr said under her breath.

  “Shh.” Era looked in the direction Zephyr was looking.

  Paige, Zephyr’s least favorite repository worker, sat at the communications station, handing out holo gear from behind the tall counter. As Era and Zephyr walked past, she wrinkled her nose, smoothed her dark brown hair, and turned away.

  “What? She’s a glitch.” Zephyr sniffed.

  Era shook her head.

  Paige lived in the same corridor as Zephyr in the singles sector, and according to Zephyr, there was nothing to like about the girl. But whatever had gone down between the two, Zephyr wasn’t sharing.

  She insisted the reason Paige and the other workers didn’t talk to them was because of her father’s position, and maybe she was right. The repository workers weren’t the first colonists on the Paragon to act uncomfortable around them.

  Mali, Head Archivist, stood at the archivist station at the back of the room, her eyepiece activated.

  Her hands moved in rapid gestures, and a frown creased her otherwise smooth, brown skin. The streak of gray in her short
black hair was the only hint that she was past middle-age.

  Era and Zephyr swiped their shift cards across the stationary’s scanner, and Mali logged two eyepieces into the system.

  “You’re late.” She handed each of them an eyepiece. “And I’ve got a bin of handhelds that need fixing.”

  “When do you not have a bin of handhelds that need fixing?” Zephyr muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “I’ll get the bin,” Era said. “We’ll get started right away.”

  Mali shot Zephyr a dour look and offered Era a wide smile. “Thank you, child.”

  Era and Zephyr skirted the stationary and work tables and headed for the cubics lining the far wall.

  “Suck-up,” Zephyr said.

  “Instigator.”

  Zephyr rolled her eyes. “I’ll meet you in three.”

  Era fitted her eyepiece against the bridge of her nose and slipped the earbud into place. She continued to the storage cubic and swiped her card along the scanner. Ten months here and Mali had already given her access to storage. No one else on this shift had clearance. Maybe that was another reason the other workers didn’t talk to her.

  The door slid open, and the lume bar above brightened in response. As she reached for the bin of handhelds, her gaze fell to the small, silver archive cases on the shelf below. Had Mali loaded one with a cube order for the president today?

  The president and board had access to all of humanity’s collective knowledge…there could be anything on those cubes.

  She pulled her eyes away from the case. Mali trusted her. She wouldn’t mess it up by giving in to her curiosity. But had Mali ever peeked at the data on the archival cubes?

  Definitely not. Accessing them without permission would be treason.

  Era pulled down the handhelds and grunted under the bin’s weight. It’d take four shifts to fix this tech, and by then, there’d be a new bin to start on. Zephyr wasn’t wrong about their workload, just stupid to get on Mali’s bad side.

  Era exited storage and stopped at the sight of the guard at the archivist station.

  Tadeo Raines, son of the captain of the Meso, spoke with Mali. The Meso grew most of the fleet’s food, and that made it the second most important ship in the fleet—after the Paragon. Which made Tadeo the second most important future-captain.