First Orbit

  Soulship: First Orbit

  By Nathan Thompson

  Chapter 1

  “I am sorry,” the woman in front of me wept. “But this can’t be your family anymore.”

  I nodded sadly. The news had not surprised me. And I could not find it in my heart to hate the only woman who had tried to be my mother.

  “I tried,” she said, still covering her face. “Please know I wanted to keep you. We all wanted to keep you. You’re a good boy. You don’t deserve this.”

  “I know, Mother Anne,” I said calmly, biting back resentment over her use of the word ‘boy.’ My malnourished state still led people to believe I was far younger than I looked. “I am grateful for all of the years you kept me safe and warm. I am of age, now. You have done all you legally can.”

  “It’s not right,” she insisted, still weeping, her dark hair falling in front of her face. I winced as I noticed the gray that had not been there before she had chosen to take me in. “You should not have to pay for your parents’ sins.”

  I wanted to laugh darkly, and quote one of the many sayings about the sins of the fathers passing on to their children. But that would be suicide, of course, because it would mark me as possessing the same dangerous knowledge that had led to my own parents’ executions so long ago.

  And had I been a year older at the time of their deaths, and a hair less careful, I would have certainly shared their fate.

  “I am not paying for anything, Mother Anne,” I said instead. “I am the surviving child of the last two terrorists ever to threaten the Global Republic. I am grateful for the mercy that the Glorious State has shown me all these years. As I know you also are.”

  Mother Anne bit her lip.

  “Yes, of course,” she said, frowning bitterly as she swallowed. “The Glorious State has liberated us all and kept us safe. Of course they would never make you pay for your parents’ sins. I only wish more could be done for you… all hail the Global Republic,” she added, in a tone that said she had just lost something important.

  “All hail the Global Republic,” I echoed easily. Because I had already lost everything.

  Awaken, the heretically English words said as they suddenly appeared before my eyes. For you are the hope of the night sky.

  I did my best not to react as the words vanished from my eyes a split-second later. But before I even had time to wonder who had just tried to kill me by forcing me to read an illegal language, they reappeared the very next moment, the exact same phrase now written in Spanish. Then French. Then Mandarin. Then Japanese. Then in a dozen more scripts, many from languages my parents never had time to teach me before their deaths. I kept my face as neutral as possible through all of them, for possessing literacy in any single one of them was enough to brand me as an educational terrorist, as the last, and greatest, living enemy to the Global Republic and its Glorious State.

  “What was that?” Mother Anne asked as she blinked rapidly.

  I nearly sighed in relief, realizing that I wasn’t the only one to have suddenly seen a hundred illegal scripts. But that very well could have been the second trap, and so I acted oblivious.

  “What do you mean, Mother Anne?” I asked, sounding confused.

  “Nothing,” she said, wiping her face. “Just saw a string of gibberish before my eyes. Probably just the stress,” she added. “But enough of that. I can pack some rations for you, at least.”

  My stomach shamed me as it groaned in response.

  “There is not much to spare, Mother Anne,” I made myself say. “Won’t the other orphans need meals as well today?”

  “You know very well that it has been far easier to gain food credits for them than it has been for you, and that the others would never forgive me for letting you leave empty-handed. They’re just as heartbroken over losing you as I am. Wait here. I will be right back.”

  Mother Anne brushed her long skirt as she rose and hustled off to the nearby kitchen. I remained seated, torn between constant hunger and constant shame. This woman had sacrificed much for me, allowing me to have a full meal almost every day. My being a non-citizen had made my rations increasingly expensive to acquire, and now it had come to choosing between providing my own rations or that of three other orphans here. It would not have come to that, if a certain party had not made sure that the rules regarding the higher expense were viciously enforced.

  That certain party was now outside. I could hear his heavy footsteps as he walked toward the door to our orphanage. He opened it without knocking, and walked through the building like he owned the place. Because, as far as our Glorious State was concerned, he did.

  “Greetings, Director Jones,” I said, standing respectfully. The large man shot me an annoyed look.

  “Why are you still here?” he demanded angrily. “Ms. Anne was supposed to have evicted you by now.”

  “Director Jones, she has just delivered the news to me. Mother Anne has given me a moment to process the news while she makes sure everything is in order for me to leave.”

  “What’s there to make sure of?” he growled, taking a step toward me. “You broke the law, like the terrorist-spawn you are. You should already be outside, waiting for them to take you to the processing center.”

  “I assure you I will leave shortly, Director Jones,” I replied, lowering my head and doing my best to remain respectful. “I merely wish to say one final goodbye to my former family. Please grant us this small mercy.”

  He growled, and did his best to loom over me. It was an easy accomplishment for him. My growth had been stunted from malnourishment, while Director Jones was naturally tall and had a body that was somehow overfed, despite the fact that the Glorious State had certainly eliminated unequal access to food with their careful and wise regulations. He could break my body in half, and that was no exaggeration.

  But I did not leave yet. Because I knew that by law, I could still remain here for a few moments longer.

  And because I knew he wanted to spend time alone with Mother Anne, and I still did not care for the way he looked at her.

  Mother Anne walked back into the room then, a small parcel of food in her hands. She had already wiped the tears from her face, and now wore a brave expression, probably on my behalf. But the beautiful middle-aged woman froze at the sight of the man who had total control over her orphanage.

  “Director Jones,” she said in a quiet voice. “I did not expect your arrival today.”

  “You should have,” the director snorted, smiling darkly at her. “A crime happened here on my watch. Should I not give due diligence? Should I not make sure more children here do not go astray, and wind up evicted as well?”

  He made no effort to hide the threat at the end of the speech, and Mother Anne’s eyes widened when she heard it.

  “And what’s this?” he gloated as his eyes lowered almost enough to look at the bag in her hands. “Is the boy stealing food again? Or are you helping him, Mother Anne? Surely you would do no such thing. You are a better citizen than that, are you not?”

  “I…” the poor woman began helplessly. But there was nothing she could say that would help her right now, and we all knew it.

  “Don’t worry, Mother Anne,” the director gloated, chuckling at the sight of her face. “This is why I will be spending more time here. Your burden for these children is too great. You need my guidance, to keep them from manipulating you. Or should I report that another ration crime just happened this very moment?”

  “You are mistaken, honored director,” I said, bowing slightly from where I stood. “What you are seeing is no crime at all. Mother Anne has just now shown me the error of my ways. She has informed me that all food in the orphanage will be secured now, even when taken out of the building. She has only left my presence j
ust now to secure said food, and was packing her own lunch, in case a change of plans occurred and she was ordered to escort me to the processing center herself.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” the large man snapped as he rounded on me. “Don’t insult my intelligence! Even I know you aren’t too stupid to untie a ration parcel!”

  “I dare not question your wisdom, honored director,” I replied calmly. “But your work is important, and your burden is no lighter than Mother Anne’s. Had you more time, you would have noticed that the esteemed Mother tied the rations securely, with many layers of packaging. Such layers would easily be removed by a strong man like yourself, but it would no doubt cost my weakened body as many calories as the rations inside would provide. By the time I finally opened the last of the wrappings, I doubt I would even have enough energy to take a single bite.”

  That was an exaggeration, to be sure. But my own words were close enough to the truth that they shamed me nonetheless. Mother Anne had wrapped the food so that it would last me as long as possible, but it would have taken my feeble arms an embarrassingly long time to get through all the parceling. Another glance from the director showed that he believed me, that he truly thought I was that weak.

  “Whatever,” the man snapped, turning back to sneer at the orphanage’s mother. “But you’re not going anywhere, Anne. That agent is stopping by to pick him up. You and I are going to discuss the future for this place.”

  The woman who had tried to be my mother shuddered at his words, and I could no longer bear it. I stepped forward and fell on my knees, kowtowing to the man in front of us.

  “What are you doing?” the director shouted in disgust. “Get away from me, you disgusting, bony thing!”

  “Director, please allow me to present my gratitude,” I said, keeping my head low. “You have been responsible for the upkeep of this home. It is thanks to your generosity that I have had a place to stay all of these years. It is thanks to your generosity that I have been fed, and clothed, and dry. I accept the consequences of my actions,” I said with as straight a face I could muster. “But know that I will never forget your many acts of kindness. I promise to write to you often, so that I may show proper gratitude,” I said, raising my head to look him in the eye. “Even if I must write such letters by hand.”

  The lecherous tyrant blinked as he processed my words. Then he paled as he recognized my threat.

  Literacy in the Sanctioned Language was still legal, but non-digital writing was highly discouraged. For if the person could put words of one language on paper, might that mean that he or she had seen written paper before? And if they had seen one language on paper, might they have seen other languages, languages full of all manner of false knowledge, also on paper?

  As a non-citizen, I was already under constant surveillance. This confession could not make my life any more difficult. But Director Jones had far more to lose.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he whispered quietly, trying to hide his own fear. For there was little he could do to keep me from writing a letter addressed to him, and we both knew that.

  “I swear to you, honored director,” I answered him levelly, “that I will write to you every time I think of you, and Mother Anne, and the other children of this place.”

  “Get out,” he hissed at me, scuttling away from me as if I were one of the diseases the Glorious State had already vanquished. “Get out of here, now.”

  But he did not dare to do so much as glance in Mother Anne’s direction. I knew then that I would take at least one small victory with me, terrorist’s child or no.

  “Mother Anne, I will now take my leave,” I said, rising to my feet without taking my eyes off the director. “Know that you have my gratitude as well.”

  And that was all I dared to say to her. I walked outside as quickly as I could. If I looked back at Mother Anne I knew I would stare at the parcel of food she still held, and I did not wish to follow my greatest accomplishment with another defeat.

  I left the building and began walking to the nearby street corner, where I could await the agent’s arrival. Behind me, I heard shouting, and then the door to the orphanage slammed open, with Director Jones’ heavy footsteps trailing off into the distance. I wanted to sigh in relief, but a nearby garbage dispenser caught my eye. I saw it, froze, then hated myself for freezing.

  The director’s steps had long trailed off. No one else was outside right now, as it was not time for a scheduled break. If I were to dig for food, would anyone know?

  And if I did not dig for food, when would my next meal come?

  And what if there would be no next meal? What if I had already eaten my last ration, and now other people’s waste was my only source of food?

  There probably wasn’t going to be the remains of any prepared meals, but people threw away plants and leather. I had eaten those before, and survived. But what if people suspected I was able to do so because of the heretical knowledge my parents had taught me?

  Another woman’s voice soon saved me from my fearful thoughts.

  “Jasper! What are you doing out here?”

  I recognized the voice, and dared to hope.

  “You shouldn’t be outside yet!” the blonde uniformed woman told me. “You were supposed to wait inside the orphanage until I came to pick you up!”

  “Apologies, Lieutenant Sells,” I told the young lady, a talented individual that had already managed to find employment directly within the Glorious State, despite being even younger than myself.

  “Don’t ‘Lieutenant Sells’ me,” she snapped. “It’s ‘Nova’ to you. I didn’t forget where I came from just because I grew up and started working!” Then her face softened. “I just want to make sure you stay safe. There’s no telling what could happen to you if you went somewhere alone.”

  I nodded and chose not to mention that I had spent many nights alone before Mother Anne had been able to take me in, and that I would likely spend many more now that she had been forced to throw me out.

  “Sorry, Nova,” I said, relaxing and speaking less formally to the girl who had been my closest friend over the years. “Director Jones showed up. He threw me out early.”

  “What?” she said, startled. “Why?”

  “The same reason he was so vigilant with me to begin with,” I said as we both began to walk to the processing center. “To spend more time with Mother Anne.”

  “What do you mean, ‘to spend more time with Mother Anne’?” Nova demanded in a shocked tone. My friend had graduated from the orphanage early, before Director Jones’ tenure had begun there. She did not know the man like I did, and hadn’t had the chance to come by her old home within the past year.

  I looked around, wondering just how much surveillance I was under. The truth was that I had long lost all faith in the Glorious State and the Global Republic it governed, but speaking against its officials was still dangerous. But Nova was an official herself now, a rising star, much like the heretical translation of her name, lost to all but time and terrorists. Could she somehow help protect Mother Anne?

  Blast it all, I decided, and spoke up.

  “I mean, his intentions are less than honorable,” I said quietly, but firmly. “She is uncomfortable with his presence, and he does not care for her wishes. I threatened to write to him.”

  She blinked for a moment, before she began clenching her fists.

  “I can’t believe it,” she growled. “No, I can believe it. I can easily believe it. But thank you for telling me, Jasper. And thank you for trying to protect her,” she added softly. “You’re far braver than you get credit for. I hope you know I see it in you.”

  “Thank you,” I muttered, not meeting her eyes.

  It was hard to handle Nova’s affection for me. She was a striking woman, with bright blue eyes, golden hair, tanned skin, and finely-shaped features. Beyond all of that, she was passionate, smart, and capable. Her competence and charisma had overcome her own orphan background and allowed her to shoot up through the ranks
of State service, making her one of the youngest lieutenants ever to be promoted. Most of the time, I was able to classify her care for me as the platonic love it almost certainly was. But every now and then, my heart shamed me by wanting more from her, despite the fact that I was a half-finished young man with no future of his own, without even the ability to purchase his own food or clothes. The comparison between us always depressed me, so I doggedly reminded myself that I was lucky to have her friendship and smothered any thoughts that ever went further than that.

  “I mean it, Jasper,” my friend insisted. “I haven’t forgotten you, and I never will. I came out here to make sure you’d be taken care of. The treatment you’ve received ever since your parents’ death isn’t right. Our new world is supposed to be better than this. I signed up for this job because too many people have forgotten that you have to work to maintain a new world. Our Republic really can be glorious, if enough people just keep fighting for it.”

  “We know that, Nova,” I soothed. “We are told to remain vigilant at all times. In case a new terrorist should one day appear.”

  If she sensed the irony of my words, she didn’t show it. Instead, she kept right on speaking.

  “And that’s wrong,” my gorgeous friend insisted passionately. “We don’t need people just being vigilant. We need them active. Asking themselves how they can make this a better world. Helping their neighbor. Having high standards for their leaders. Becoming leaders themselves, wherever possible. I know people get scared sometimes, but if an orphan like me can find a job helping the Republic, anyone can! Just watch, Jasper. Maybe I can’t fix everything myself, but I can make things better, even if it’s just enough to cause one more person to try, and then they can make a difference, too! And that’s what I’m going to do right now. Come on.” She grabbed my hand and took me to a side street, leading me away from the processing center.

  “Nova, where are we going?” I asked, looking around worriedly. I knew this could end badly. There had to be at least ten surveillance devices monitoring me right now.