Starbound Read online

  Jas sighed with relief and threw herself on her bed. She put her arm over her eyes. With luck, it would be too late in the semester for the college administration to assign another student to the room, and Jas would have it to herself. She would look forward to being alone each morning and night.

  There was a tap at the door. Her heart sank. Had Aggy returned? But she had never bothered to knock. Jas called out for her visitor to come in. A black-haired head with blue eyes appeared around the door edge. Clash. Gong.

  “Hi,” Jas tried to say, but her throat had suddenly turned dry. She sat up.

  Sergei smiled at her croak. Jas swallowed and tried to look nonchalant.

  “I was passing,” he said, “and I wanted to say hello. Tamara said you’d just gotten back.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right.”

  “It...er...it turns out we’re classmates for a few classes. I just found out you’re studying security too. You have a leadership skills class in the morning?”

  He’d been asking around about her? “Yes, I do. You’re taking that class too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s it like?” Sergei asked. “I started late this semester after I transferred from another college. I had to take whatever spare places they had.”

  “I know. It’s good. I mean, the leadership option is good.” Jas wondered why she hadn’t seen him in class.

  Sergei smiled again. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He turned to leave.

  “How’s...” Jas had only one thing on her mind, but she didn’t want to say it. She knew how it would look. But she couldn’t help herself. “How’s Bree?”

  There was that smile again—a knowing smile this time. Sergei was a little cocky. “Oh, we split up. It wasn’t really working out.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sergei’s eyebrows lifted. No, you aren’t.

  No, I’m not.

  They both laughed a little.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jas said.

  As he closed the door, she lay down and covered her eyes with her arm again. Beneath it, her mouth was curved into a grin.

  SERGEI SAT BEHIND HER in the leadership class the next day, which Jas found deeply distracting. She constantly wanted to turn around to look at him, and she felt his gaze on her back like a spot of warm syrup, sweet and tempting. Whenever she did turn around, he was always watching. He would wink at her.

  In spite of her pleasant diversion, Jas tried her best to concentrate. In an unpredictable world, her studies had always been the one steady rock she could cling to. She wasn’t a natural student—excessive energy made sitting still and paying attention harder for her than most—but her grades were above average, and she planned on keeping them that way.

  “In any organization involved in security, there’s always a strict hierarchy,” the professor was saying. Her name was Clements. “Whether it’s one of the armed forces, the police, or a private company’s security division, someone at the top gives orders to those directly below them, and so on down the chain to the bottom of the pyramid.”

  In front of each student was an interface. The screens lit up, and a diagram like a family tree appeared. It was the chain of command in the space navy—a complex list of ranks and related insignia.

  Clements continued, “Effectiveness and discipline are built on the foundation of obedience. For the efficient functioning of any group involved in security operations, it’s vital that each member obeys the commands of those above. They don’t have to know why, and sometimes the command might seem odd or even nonsensical. It doesn’t matter. In an operating situation, there’s no time for discussions, explanations, or justifications. Obedience should be the first response.

  “This doesn’t only apply to those at the bottom. Compliance is necessary right up the hierarchy.

  “Today, we’re looking at how a leader’s behavior and attitude affects the likelihood of obedience in those below him or her.” She picked up a laser pointer.

  A hand went up.

  Clements glanced at her seating plan. “Mr. Archer?”

  The hand’s owner, a scruffy young man in a thick jumper, said, “But what if we’re told to do something against our conscience? Like, I don’t know, kill a kid?”

  Clements replied, “Good question. We’ll be looking at ethics toward the end of the class, but to give a brief answer, providing the order is lawful, you must obey. However, in the extremely rare event that an order is unlawful, you are legally required to disobey.”

  Another hand was raised. Before the lecturer had time to check whose it was, a female student said, “How do we tell what’s lawful and what isn’t? I mean, it isn’t like we go through law school.”

  “Basically it comes down to this,” Clements replied, putting down her laser pointer and folding her hands. “If a person of ordinary sense and understanding would judge the order illegal, then you must disobey. To take Mr. Archer’s example, it’s hard to think of a case where it would be lawful to kill a child. But you must judge each situation according to its context.”

  The spot of syrup on Jas’ back was growing warmer, but she resisted the urge to look around. Something was bothering her about what Clements was saying.

  Hers was the third hand to be raised that morning. She waited for Clements to find her name.

  “Ms. Harrington?”

  “I wanted to ask, what if you’re on the ground during a maneuver and you’re ordered to do something that doesn’t make sense? I mean, what if you think what they’re telling you is wrong? If you don’t trust their judgment?” She was thinking of Trankle. She’d hate to be serving under him. He’d probably send her on a suicide mission.

  Clements snorted a short laugh and replied, “You don’t get to make that call about your superiors. Compliance should always be your first response. There’s no room for personality clashes in security. It’s dangerous. You’ll have to accept that you’re not going to get along with everyone you work with.”

  “I understand,” Jas replied, “but not everyone we work with is going to be good at their job.”

  “Ms. Harrington, I know what you mean, but you’re muddying the waters here. You have to trust the system that put your superior in his or her position. We can quibble all day about what ifs. As I’ve been saying for the last five minutes, unquestioning obedience is the bedrock of a successful security operation. From the top down, everyone has to follow orders.”

  The professor’s answer left Jas uncomfortable. Though she hadn’t been badly behaved at the children’s home, the chaotic nature of the place had left her with a lack of faith in authority. She also wasn’t sure she could trust her life to someone like Trankle.

  Chapter Six

  AFTER CLASS, SERGEI asked Jas if she wanted to come out with him and another few students to a bar in town that Friday evening. She agreed, a little too fast, her stomach fluttering. Anticipation of the casual date made her feel like she was walking through molasses the remainder of the week. Lectures and seminars dragged even more than usual, and in fitness and combat training, she found it hard to concentrate.

  It wasn’t until Thursday that she saw Sergei again. It turned out that he was also in her weapons class.

  They were learning the basics of how the weapons worked, especially the latest powered weapons. It was supposed to improve their skills in handling them. A range of disarmed examples were stored in the classroom: old-fashioned guns, rifles that fired rounds, and the newer 'laser’ guns. They were called laser guns, but the pulses they emitted were based on the phenomenon of ball lightning. Laser guns emitted short bursts of energy that could shock a living organism’s nerves enough to stun it or, when the weapons were set to full power, burn through skin, tissue, and bone.

  Firing the laser guns was very different from shooting with bullets. As Jas had discovered during target practice, they didn’t produce any recoil, nor any sound apart from a faint fizz. Their range was shorter than projectile weapons’, but the
strongest wind had no effect on the trajectory. The laser guns were armed with pre-charged power units, and when the energy ran out, they were as useful as an empty pistol.

  The students were assigned to groups and given a weapon to take apart and reassemble to understand how it worked. Jas and Sergei were assigned to the same group. As they started, Jas realized where Sergei’s firm skin on his hands might have come from. He picked up the laser gun and examined it at eye level, clearly fascinated. He ignored everyone as if he’d forgotten they were there.

  On the table was an open case of tiny screwdrivers they’d been given. He ran his fingers through it and took one out. In a few seconds, he carefully removed the casing, revealing a complex system of wires and coils. He bent his head over the weapon, the screwdriver poised in his hand, and closely studied the interior.

  Jas folded her arms and looked on, bemused. Another student in the group coughed. Sergei looked up and seemed to remember the others. “Ha, sorry,” he said, and pushed the opened weapon to the center of the table where they could see it. He leaned back, and Jas caught his eye. He looked a little embarrassed. “Interesting, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Jas said, peering into the mysterious inner workings of the gun. “I guess so.”

  IT WAS FINALLY FRIDAY evening. Classes were over for the week, and though Jas had a mountain of work to do over the weekend, she could afford to take off the next few hours to relax and enjoy herself. Jas was getting ready to go out. She had to meet Sergei at the front of the college in ten minutes. She’d showered and was trying to decide what to wear. The only clothes she had that were suitable for a bar were the ones she’d worn at the party. She felt a little silly, and poor, to wear the same outfit again. But her height meant that she couldn’t borrow anyone else’s clothes. Sighing, she began to get dressed.

  She was tingling all over in terrified excitement. It seemed inevitable that something would happen with Sergei. Probably something good. She hadn’t spent much time examining her feelings for the man—introspection usually led her down roads she didn’t want to travel. She couldn’t explain what had happened when her eyes had met his in that clichéd way across a crowded room. She also couldn’t deny the experience, and from his behavior, she didn’t think Sergei could either.

  Tonight would be interesting to say the least.

  She went to Tamara’s room. Her friend opened her door at Jas’ knock.

  “You’re going now? You look nice.”

  It was a white lie, and Jas knew it, but she appreciated it all the same. She’d grown to like Tamara a lot in their short time in the dorm.

  “Yeah. You sure you don’t want to come?”

  “Sorry, you know I’d like to, but I really have too much work to do. We started a whole new section today, on life on high-gravity planets, and I don’t know anything about it. We didn’t cover the subject at school. I have to go right back to the basics. That’s as well as everything else. And we have a test in two weeks.”

  Tamara’s normally cheerful face was looking strained and tired.

  “Okay,” Jas said. “If you’re asleep when I get back, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “If you get back to your room,” Tamara said, and her dimples appeared.

  Jas laughed as a flush crept up her face.

  THE NIGHT WAS BITTERLY cold. Just going from the door of the college to the autocab that awaited her made Jas appreciate the scant warmth of the building’s central heating. Two other male students were in the vehicle as well as Sergei. From their behavior toward each other Jas guessed they were a couple. Sergei introduced everyone, and they set off through the brightly lit darkness to the town center.

  Alcohol was supposedly banned on campus, but Jas had seen many inebriated students after classes were over for the day. Beer and liquor were easy to purchase in town for those old enough. At eighteen, Jas could legally drink in Antarctica, but she hadn’t up to that point. She wasn’t against it, she just hadn’t sought it out. She supposed tonight would be her first time.

  She’d also never been in a bar, she suddenly realized when, after a twenty-minute drive, the cab pulled up outside one in downtown McMurdo Sound. Rashid’s Tavern, read the sign over the door. It had been cracked and warped by time and the weather. Beneath the wide signage were two windows and a door. The plexiglass windows were divided into small rectangles, separated by lines of brick.

  Jas hesitated while the others went directly to the door. Sergei paused, holding the door open and looking back at her. “Something wrong?”

  She was wondering why the bar’s owner—Rashid—thought it was necessary to have such heavily protected windows. Did they get broken often?

  People inside were shouting to Sergei angrily to close the door. “Come on,” he said.

  Jas hurried inside, faint prickles running up her spine.

  Chapter Seven

  IT WAS EARLY EVENING, but the bar was nearly full. Sergei’s friends had found a tall table, and they waved them over. All the bar stools were taken, so they stood around the table. Sergei’s friend, Aaron, offered to buy the first round. He went over to the bar and attracted the bartender’s attention. As the woman turned around, Jas was startled by her face.

  The bartender had either had extensive surgery or she wasn’t human. Her skin was patterned yellow and brown, and where her mouth and nose should have been was a prehensile snout with whiskers on either side. She nodded as she took Aaron’s order. When she moved down the bar to make the drinks, he turned back to them with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Did you see?

  “Is that Rashid, do you think?” Jas asked Sergei.

  “Rashid? Who’s Rashid?”

  “The bar owner,” Jas replied. “Didn’t you see the sign? It said Rashid’s Tavern.”

  “Did it? Krat. The autocab’s brought us to the wrong place. Terry, you told it where to go. What did you say?”

  “I gave it the address you told me.”

  “I don’t think you did,” Sergei said. “Maybe you misheard me. Come to think of it, this doesn’t look much like a student bar.”

  Jas had been wondering about that too. While waiting for Aaron to bring their drinks, she’d been looking around at the crowd. They definitely weren’t students. They were older, and they didn’t look the types to be interested in education. Their faces were roughened and red from cold exposure, and they wore clothes representing fashions of several decades, including many items that were timeless, such as thick, shapeless coats and hats. Judging by the behavior of some, they’d been drinking for several hours already.

  No one dressed up to go out to this bar.

  As Jas was looking, a man turned to meet her gaze. Gray-blond stubble coated his chin and cheeks and grew not much longer on his head. A tattoo of an anarchist symbol ran up the side of his face. The man leered as he looked Jas in the eyes, revealing weirdly decorated perfectly square teeth. She turned away uneasily.

  “Checking out the local action?” Sergei asked.

  She laughed. “No.”

  “Sure you don’t see anyone you like?” His face was mock serious.

  Jas took another look around the room at the crowd of locals. She was beginning to understand McMurdo Sound. It was where people came when they wanted to escape something, whether it was the law, a relationship, family, or social conventions. Her spine was still tingling strangely.

  “Do you think maybe we should go somewhere else?” she asked Sergei.

  Aaron arrived, his large hands wrapped around four glasses of beer that he deposited on the table. Sergei passed them around, picked up his own and took a sip. “Do you really want to leave? It’s cold outside, and it’s going to be hard to get a cab now that the evening rush is on. Let’s stay here a while. Seems friendly enough.”

  Aaron asked, “Did you get a look at the bartender? Where do you think she’s from?”

  “How would we know?” Terry asked. “She could be from anywhere.”

  “I mean what planet,” Aaron replied.
“She isn’t human. Couldn’t you tell from her face?”

  “She could easily be human. Doesn’t matter what she looks like,” said Terry. “You can get all kinds of things done these days. Between surgery and gene therapy, you can look like a woolly mammoth if you want.”

  “No,” replied Aaron, “she’s definitely alien—if she is a she. Did you get a look at her hands? I’m using the word loosely.”

  As Aaron and Terry continued their discussion about the origins of the bartender, Sergei moved a little closer to Jas. If he’d been anyone else, he would have been a little too close for her preferences, but she found herself welcoming the proximity.

  She sipped her beer. It tasted bitter but not unpleasant. She wondered when she would start to feel the effects of the alcohol. “You like weapons, then?” she asked Sergei, raising her voice to compete with the increasing hum of conversation in the bar.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “You seemed very interested the other day in class.”

  “Oh, right. I guess I was, but not because it was a weapon. I like taking things apart to find out how they work. That’s all.” He undid his coat. The place was getting warmer. “So you’re in the deep space program?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head slightly. “Doesn’t the idea of starjumping freak you out? But you must have already made at least one jump from Mars.”

  “I did, but just the one. It was okay.” She tensed, wondering if Sergei would move the conversation on to her background, but he didn’t.

  “Doesn’t it scare you just a little bit?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t think they even know exactly how starjumps work, do they?”

  “Hmm...from what I understand, they know the math, they just don’t know where the starship actually goes while it’s in a jump state.”