Legacy Code (3 page)

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.

He, like Zephyr and other senior command level kids, was spending a mandated term aboard the flagship. He served in the guard, directly under the president, but rarely showed up for drops. When he did, he always came with the head guard, Chief Petroff. Never alone.

Zephyr had a bit of a misguided, if understandable, obsession with Tadeo. His natural bronze skin had the kind of glow Era could only hope to get after hours spent under the super helio. He acted like a beacon—the women staring at him from the waiting area proved that. Or maybe they were just wondering if all the rumors about Tadeo were true.

He glanced up, shoving a lock of too-long black hair out of his eyes, and met her gaze. Warmth crept into Era’s cheeks, and she walked to cubic three. No way was she telling Zephyr he was here.

Zephyr sat at the table, head in her arms, eyes closed.

“You better pay attention today.” Era slid into a chair. “Mali’s gonna figure out your skills are worse than basic soon. Don’t want to end up plating quin in the galley.”

Zephyr groaned and straightened, a scowl on her face. “I can code. I can fix my own handheld. Usually.”

“Yeah, you’re talking to me right now. Getting a holo to display ‘Hello World’ doesn’t count. Sorry.”

“Everyone likes a good welcome message when they activate a handheld. You don’t appreciate my skills. And anyway, I’m not the one training for Head Archivist.”

Era coughed and adjusted her eyepiece. Mali was approaching the age where she’d choose her successor, but she hadn’t said, for sure, that Era was her pick.

Era chose a handheld from the bin and set it down on the table. “Fine. Show me how you fix this.”