The Colonists (The Movement Trilogy) (8 page)

Tasneem groans. I really, really don't want to talk about Catrine.
 

Okay, says Tarae. She sips her coffee.

Tasneem picks her head up. How much do you know?
 

I know the crew's taking bets on which one of us you're going to sleep with and send packing next, she says.

Jesus, Tasneem says. No, you're not.

No, but we could. I know you think we're all oblivious to your behavior, but you're like a newly-divorced party girl. There isn't one person aboard who doesn't know you and Catrine were sleeping together.

We weren't -- alright, fine. We were. Happy?

Is that why you sent her away?
 

Maybe, Tasneem says. She rests her head on the table again. Can we talk about this later?
 

Okay, says Tarae.
 

Serena pokes her head into the galley. Morning, Tarae. Morning, Tasneem.

Yes, I slept with her! Tasneem shouts. Alright? We don't have to talk about it!

Serena leaves.

Tarae says, Alright, now everybody knows.

Serena didn't know?
 

She knew.
 

Tasneem exhales heavily. I just don't want to talk about it.

Who's taking Catrine's place as first officer?
 

I don't know. A rock.

She was good. I don't think a rock would do it.

You want the job?
 

Me? Not if it means I have to sleep with you. I like you and I think you're a lovely woman -- most of the time -- but I'm not interested in taking your pants off. Or you taking mine.

I fucked things up, didn't I, Tasneem mumbles.
 

If you mean you're behaving like a child, then sure, I'd go with that, Tarae says. You were pretty shitty to me yesterday, too.

You want an apology?
 

I want you to stop screwing around and start trying to save the system again, says Tarae. That's all. Can we do that? Can you?

I don't know, Tasneem says. I've been trying to do that for a long time. I need a vacation. I should go to Tahiti.

Let me channel Catrine for you, says Tarae. Nobody knows what Tahiti is.

Shut up, Tarae.

Yes, ma'am.
 

•
 
•
 
•

The
Maasi
shudders, and dull, hollow booms reverberate through the ship. Varien is in the viewing galley, writing, when it happens. He yelps, pulled from his fog of adjectives. The next collision knocks him to the floor and sends his pen skittering away.
 

Tarae's voice sounds throughout the
Maasi
.

This one's real. Serena, wake up. Tasneem, I could use you up on the bridge.

The speaker crackles to life again, and Ishy says, Serena, get down here now, we've got a fire.

Varien scrambles to his feet. He takes the stairs three at a time, then throws himself down a ladder. He bangs into the wall, takes a corner fast, and nearly collides with Serena at the next junction.

With me, Serena shouts, and Varien follows.
 

Ishy is at the engine room door. Her left sleeve has been torn away, and her arm is scorched.
 

You're burned, Varien says.
 

I'm okay -- be careful in there, it just got huge all of a sudden.

Serena yells at Varien from inside. Tall guy! Varien!
 

Varien points up the stairs. Go find Oona, he says to Ishy. Hurry, these things need immediate treatment or they just get worse.
 

Varien! Serena yells again.

Ishy staggers up the stairs, and Varien dives into the engine room.
 

Serena is on her knees to stay under acrid smoke. Varien drops to the floor and crawls to her.

Above me, she says. There's a ripcord at the top of this panel. I can't reach it.

Pull it? Varien asks.

Hard as you can, she says. Hold your breath. Don't open your eyes.
 

Varien nods, takes two deep breaths of thinning air, and leaps to his feet. Serena watches as he vanishes into the smoke. His feet arch until he's standing on his toes.

It's short and has a handle, she calls up.
 

Behind her, the engine stutters, and she can hear the sound of twisting metal clanging deep inside of it.
 

Fast, now! she yells up at Varien.
 

He falls to the floor. His face is streaked with black soot.
 

I couldn't find it, he says, and coughs violently.
 

You gotta go back up, Serena says. Hear that?
 

The engine sounds like it's being torn apart by animals.
 

Varien nods.
 

That shit means bad things happen, she says. Really bad. We-all-die bad. Pull that goddamn cord!

Tasneem stares at the asteroid. Far below, she can see fresh impact craters from the barrage.
 

Varien balls up a dirty towel and tosses it aside. He breathes like a chimney, every breath black and painful.
 

Oona has a solution that will help, Tasneem says.
 

Varien wheezes. This happens often?
 

Sometimes, Tasneem says. This is the worst one yet. We shouldn't have been running without radar, but there are Citadel patrols in the belt. We saw two a week ago, so we've kept signatures disabled or muted -- if we hadn't, we'd have know the burst was coming, and we could have maneuvered out of the way.

It's worse when you're tethered to an asteroid, isn't it, Varien says.
 

Occasionally, she says. When we're in the river, though, with the rest of the rocks, it's more constant. Here, we've got a little protection, but it's not total.
 

Can Ishy repair the engine?
 

I don't know. She's looking at it with Serena now. I'm going to assume the worst.

What's the worst? Varien asks.
 

The worst is, we're immobilized here. Adrift with the rock, can't go anyplace. The worst is, we're sitting ducks if the patrols pick us up.
 

What happens if they do?
 

I've been on the Citadel's list for four hundred years, Tasneem says. If they find us, they'll kill all of you, and they'll martyr me as slowly and as visibly as they can.
 

Varien exhales a throaty breath. Do we have weapons?
 

No, Tasneem says. I mean, the ship itself can be a weapon. But my war is one without deaths. So no guns, no bolts, no bombs. You can't improve the system by removing people from it. You improve the system by improving people themselves.
 

Varien looks worried.

It's okay to be scared, Tasneem says. You're in the mix now. This isn't Saffron.

I am scared, Varien says. I don't know what to do about it. I've never really been afraid of anything in my life.
 

When I lived on Earth, Tasneem says, when I was very small, I was scared of all sorts of things. Earth was pulling itself apart. Every week another storm claimed another few thousand lives. I would wake up to the sound of thunder, and it terrified me. The Earth I knew was a dying one, tortured and afraid.
 

Were you alone?
 

My mother was there, Tasneem says. She would hold me, and she would tell me stories about a new home. She made it up, all of it, but it soothed me. And then it came true, and we moved to Station Ganymede. We were safe, and she died knowing that I was safe. Her stories weren't real, but they became real.

So I should just tell myself lies? Varien asks. Just make up a fairy tale about a safe place?
 

Tasneem smiles. I can do you one better.
 

•
 
•
 
•

You've met almost everyone aboard the
Maasi
, Tasneem says.
 

She points at her bed, and Varien sits down.
 

Who else is there? Varien asks. I haven't seen anyone except for Serena, Tarae, Oona, Ishy and you.
 

Tasneem taps her wristband. Have you ever seen one of these?
 

Jewelry? Varien asks.

She removes the wristband and hands it to him.
 

As he cradles it, inspecting it, she says, This is a vintage personal databand. They were invented on Station Ganymede, and quickly became indispensable. They're like the backstraps you see people wearing now, except the databand was removable. You've seen a backstrap?

Yes, Varien says. I knew a man on Saffron who had one in the shape of a dragon.
 

So you know them, then. Good. Backstraps are elegant things -- they're indistinguishable from skin unless you want them to be visible, and they do a lot more than a databand did. These wristbands came with earpieces. They could talk to you, though rather robotically. They would direct your movements through a space, or contact people for you, but altogether they were very limited. The backstrap is more of a body augmentation. Did your friend have health issues?

He said he wore his to curb his alcoholism, Varien says.

I thought so. Backstraps actually interact with your body in ways that the databand didn't.
 

So why do you wear it? It's half a millennium old. Is it just to remind you of the old days?
 

Oh, no. I'm not sentimental at all. I wear it because -- well, it's easier to show you. Give me your wrist.

Varien leans forward and extends his arm.
 

Tasneem fits the databand around his wrist.
 

Your arm's a little bigger than mine, she says. Okay, now this.

She removes a small earpiece and hands it to him. Varien inspects it curiously, then tilts his head and fits it into his left ear.
 

What's this all for? Varien asks.
 

He'll tell you, Tasneem says. Don't be startled.

Varien opens his mouth. What do you --

Hello, Varien.

•
 
•
 
•

Shit, Varien says.
 

You only flinched a little, Tasneem says. Most people freak out.

Varien looks confused. I don't know --

Who to look at? Tasneem smiles. Just ignore me. Talk to him.

Who is he? How is this --

Ask him, Tasneem suggests.
 

Who are you? Varien says.

Tasneem reaches out and touches Varien's hands. Don't speak out loud, she says. Think.

Varien's brow knots, and Tasneem watches a flicker of wonder cross his face, and then he relaxes.

Good, she says.
 

•
 
•
 
•

I am no longer human
, David says.
You are, but you are not the same human as Tasneem. She's born of Earth. It's heady stuff, when you think about it. Tasneem is the last survivor of the planet Earth. You, my friend, are a new human. You are born of the stars, far from the origin of your species. You, Varien, are a post-Earth man.
 

What does that mean? Varien thinks.

Right now it probably doesn't mean very much,
David says.
Not to you. But to me, it means a great deal. You are not the last version of human, Varien. In the great age of the universe, mankind is still but a tiny, tiny speck. What feels like ages to us is a millisecond to the universe. We are fragmenting, though. You may not have noticed, but I have. Tasneem has, to a degree. The unity we forged as babies in space has fled from us. Now we are as contrary as we once were on Earth. We war among ourselves. We want different things. Our languages are forking.
 

We even look different. When we left the Earth, we wore the faces of our people. In space, we forged a new face. The Scots and the Africans married, and gave their children names from both lands. The Chinese and the Dutch fell together, and their names blended. Aboard the space stations, we melted together.

But now we have hardened, and we are coming apart. Do you understand?

Sort of, Varien thinks. I've never thought about these things.

You will come to understand them as you write for Tasneem,
David says.
And when I can, I will help you.
 

Thanks, Varien thinks.
 

Back to what I was saying, now. We are tearing ourselves apart. The Machine Rebellion was the beginning. The System War was a new chapter, one quickly written and thrown away. Tasneem was not always a peaceful warrior, you know. In the System War, she was only a warrior. I have been with her for most of her life, Varien, and in the war, I saw in her an anger I have never seen.
 

What changed?

Too many things to talk about now,
David says.
Maybe another time. We're at war now, you know. It's a quiet war, waged by men who slip up behind other men and saw open their throats. It happens in the black, far from the Citadel, far from the Council. Like a honeybee hive, the Citadel's agents swarm through the dark and sting the rebellion, frightening it into silence, turning it to stone. The rebels who fought in the first war are old now, afraid of what it means to rise up. They're afraid for their families. The rebels have grown tame.
 

Which is why Tasneem broadcasts her messages, Varien thinks. To wake them up.

That's right,
David says.

They're after her, too, Varien thinks. That's what she tells me.

They've been after Tasneem since she punched a hole in the Citadel. Even when the rebellion is silent, Tasneem is its face. She belongs to the people, but the people have forgotten her. Few hear her. If the Citadel found her now, the rebellion would sink into the darkness without protest. It would be forgotten, too. You understand her importance? Every word you write for her will be the most important words you ever write.