Star Wanderers: Tales of the Far Outworlds (Omnibus V-VIII) Read online

  “Well? What do you think?”

  Noemi cringed. She hated mirrors. It wasn’t that she was ugly, just that she was plain—which ultimately amounted to the same thing. Her arms were long and lanky, her legs thin and pale. Unlike Marta, her body was straight and almost devoid of curves. Her chest was so flat, if she cut her hair short, she could almost pass as a boy. Her only redeeming physical quality was her eyes, but all of the women from Delta Oriana had beautiful eyes—that was why so many starfarers chose Deltan brides. But even among her own people, no one had chosen her.

  She smiled so as not to hurt her sister’s feelings. “It looks good,” she lied.

  “Needs something, though,” said Marta. “How about a headband?”

  Noemi shrugged. What difference did it make?

  As Marta tied a matching yellow headband across her brow, a chime at the front door made them all jump. “He’s coming!” Eva shrieked, while out in the family room, their father’s heavy footsteps sounded on the hard metal floor. Their mother let out a low, disconsolate wail, while Bekka ran to give her a frightened hug.

  Marta grabbed Noemi by the arm and pulled her to the door, where Eva and Elsa already crouched, listening in nervous anticipation. The room suddenly became very quiet, with everyone shooting quick and hurried glances at each other. Noemi’s heart pounded in spite of herself, and her palms felt warm and sweaty. Even though she was the oldest, it was all she could do to stay still.

  “He’s coming!” Eva whispered. As with all of them, her voice betrayed just as much fear as excitement.

  * * * * *

  Their father’s voice trickled in through the flimsy partition, speaking in a strange and foreign tongue. The starfarer answered, and a picture of him slowly began to form in Noemi’s mind. He sounded young, though not too boyish—he was a man, definitely a man. From his soft, low tone, he seemed polite and respectful. She imagined him with short hair and a trim, well-groomed beard, like those worn by the station elite.

  Does he have any idea what’s going on back here? she wondered, glancing around at her nervous sisters. Bekka’s eyes were wide with terror, while Marta bounced up and down on her toes. A small part of Noemi felt the same anticipation, but she knew better than to expect to be chosen. Instead, she waited with a strange mixture of detachment and hope—not for herself, of course, but for her sisters. If one of them went on to live a long and happy life, then perhaps this horrible spectacle would be worth it.

  Father clapped twice—the signal for them to enter. Marta suppressed a squeal, while Elsa’s arms began to shake. As the oldest, Noemi led them out, her steps surprisingly light. Her legs, already numb, moved of their own volition, making her feel as if she were gliding across the floor. Her sisters followed.

  They lined up in front of the partition like robots at an auction—or perhaps like portraits for sale along the rimside corridor. Noemi hated it. She stared at the floor and tried once again to tug the hem of her chemise down to cover her thighs. Next to her, Marta tossed her hair back, while the other girls trembled with fear.

  As their father continued talking with the stranger, Noemi stole a glance at him. To her surprise, he was clean-shaven with wavy brown hair, not at all as she’d imagined. His face seemed a little pale, but his nose was straight and his chin sharp. He was about half a head taller than her, with broad shoulders and a flat stomach. He wore a dark gray jumpsuit like the local freight haulers, with short sleeves and a wristband on his left arm that carried a small computer console. His eyes were a light hazel, framed by dark lashes and narrow eyebrows.

  He doesn’t look so bad, she thought silently to herself. In fact, he looked just as nervous as they did.

  Her father said something to him and gestured to her sisters. He looked at each of them, from youngest to oldest. When his eyes fell on her, she bit her lip and stared at the floor. Marta did the same, but drew herself up a little more, no doubt hoping to get his attention.

  I hope he chooses her, Noemi thought to herself. She deserves a better life than what she can have here. And besides, as much as she loved Bekka and the others, they were far too young for any of this. Marta, at least, was old enough to take a husband.

  The stranger frowned. Was he going to refuse? Now they were arguing. Elsa glanced nervously from her to Marta, and Noemi tried to reassure her with a smile. In just a few moments, it would all—

  “Aiee!” cried their mother, bursting out from the back room. Eva jumped while Bekka put her hands to her ears, but their mother ran past all of them, straight to their father.

  “How could you do this?” she cried, her voice hoarse. “How could you peddle our daughters like—”

  “Silence, woman!” father boomed. “For the last time, this is for their own good!”

  His strong, authoritative voice made Noemi cringe. The stranger glanced nervously at her sisters; it was clear from the uncomfortable way he shifted on his feet that he didn’t want anything to do with this.

  Father turned and bellowed at him, too, only a hint of restraint in his voice. At the same time, their mother collapsed to the floor in tears.

  “Woe is me, woe is me!” she cried, rocking back and forth.

  A wave of nausea gripped Noemi’s stomach. Everything about this farce was just wrong. The trauma in her little sisters’ eyes was just unbearable. Now her father and the stranger were arguing, with little Bekka looking as if she would cry.

  Please—just choose and get this over with.

  Without warning, their father grabbed her and Marta by their arms and pulled them bodily forward. Marta let out a nervous giggle as the stranger looked her over, but Noemi bit her lip and drew in a sharp breath.

  That’s right—choose her.

  The stranger held up both hands palm up, as if to protest. Behind them, Mother sobbed inconsolably. Noemi wished that her father would let go so that she could try to comfort her. After all, if the stranger was going to choose one of them, sure he would choose—

  “Hiya,” said the stranger, pointing directly at her.

  A chill shot down Noemi’s back, and her knees went suddenly weak. She covered her mouth with her hands to suppress a gasp, but already her father was pulling her away from the others.

  Me? she wanted to ask. What—why?

  To her horror, her father took her by the wrist and clasped her hands with the stranger’s. He made the sign of the cross on his chest, while behind him, her mother wailed even louder.

  “By the authority vested in me as master of Megiddo Station,” he said quickly, “I pronounce you husband and wife.”

  Noemi’s vision blurred, and her legs went numb. She was vaguely aware of voices screaming all around her, but the room was spinning, and nothing seemed real to her anymore—nothing but the gut-wrenching knowledge that she was about to leave her home forever.

  Chapter 2

  The tearful goodbyes passed in a numbing blur, like something from a dream. Noemi was barely able to keep up with it all. One moment, she was pushed in one direction; the next, she was pulled in another. Emotions spilled out freely all around her, and as much as she tried to keep herself together, her own feelings were far too complicated to grasp.

  And then she was out of the apartment, following her father and the stranger—now her husband—down a narrow maintenance corridor, ducking beneath the piping and conduit. A hiss sounded up ahead, and they stepped into the main rimside corridor, walking briskly toward the dockyards.

  The stranger said nothing, but Noemi could tell that he was tense. He spoke in hushed tones with her father, who waved magnanimously with his hand. She gasped for breath as she struggled to keep pace—she was already choked up when they’d left—and if they walked any faster, they’d practically be running.

  They stopped and chased a few gaunt-faced beggars out from in front of an airlock. Dock rats, as some called them—but in a way, they were all beggars now. Her father had begged this stranger to take her from this place, and now she was all but at his merc
y. The marriage only served to free her conscience, but it wasn’t guilt that seized her—not yet, anyway. It was terror.

  The airlock door hissed open like a maw. They stepped inside, and Noemi’s legs turned to ice. She felt rooted to the spot, as if her feet had become fused to the deck of the stranger’s ship.

  “Well, this is it,” said her father, his voice as soft as a whisper. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “I’ve done all I can for you—I just wish I could have done more. Take care of yourself, and don’t forget that I love you.”

  Noemi nodded mutely, unable to utter a word. In that moment, she felt as if she’d never be able to speak again. They embraced warmly, and then he walked away, his back turned to her, disappearing among the rest of the beggars on the deck.

  Don’t leave me! Noemi wanted to scream.

  For a very brief moment she felt an overwhelming urge to run after him, but when she tried to lift her feet, they refused to move. The stranger hit the access panel, and the airlock door hissed shut on her home forever.

  The stranger swore—at least, that was what she gathered from the tone of his voice. She turned to face him and realized that they were completely alone together. Fear gripped her heart, and she took a long, ragged breath, struggling to calm herself.

  He stuck out his hand and pointed his fingers at her. For a moment, she thought he would prod her stomach, but he just held it there. She looked up at his eyes and saw, to her surprise, that he seemed a little embarrassed.

  What does he want? She folded her arms, not sure what else to do.

  He slipped his hand into his pocket and asked a question. The foreign words spilled out of his mouth like water from a fountain, but try as she might to grasp their meaning, it washed right over her.

  He doesn’t even know my language, she thought to herself, remembering how her father had spoken with him in his own tongue. That was going to make things unbearably—but no, better not think of that now. One thing at a time.

  He nodded and spoke again, perhaps to give her an apology. He still seemed surprisingly embarrassed, and his eyes betrayed an underlying gentleness that calmed the worst of her fears. A little awkwardly, he palmed open the second airlock door and lead her into his starship.

  The first thing Noemi noticed about his ship was how small it was. A short walkway led from the airlock to the cabin, with a door the size of a closet that could only lead to a bathroom. The cabin itself was barely the size of her father’s office, with a sloped ceiling and a bed that folded out from the wall. “Bed” was a little too generous, actually—it was more of a cot. The walls were devoid of windows, wall-screens, or even posters, though the torn remnant of one still clung to the face of one of the compartments. Elsewhere, long yellow handles ran vertically to the ceiling. They confused her at first, until she realized that they were hand-holds for when the ship was in zero gravity.

  She swallowed. It wasn’t anything like home.

  The stranger hastily threw some clothes into a small washer unit, then unfolded the cot and motioned to it with her hand. Noemi’s eyes widened, and she stifled a cry—not even undocked from the station, and already he wanted to bed her? She gave him a questioning look, and he blushed and vigorously shook his head. Relief swept over her—thank goodness it wasn’t to that yet. Instead, he opened a wall compartment and pulled out a jumpsuit very much like the one he wore. He held it out to her, then rose and stepped through the doorway behind him the moment she’d taken it.

  He wants me to change, Noemi realized. There wasn’t much privacy, but that was all right—with four younger sisters, she was used to it. As he stepped through a doorway into what looked like the ship’s bridge, she slipped out of the chemise and pulled on the jumpsuit. It was a bit baggy on her, but not so much that it wouldn’t stay on. With comfortably short sleeves and pant legs that stretched almost to her ankles, it was a wonderful improvement over what she’d been wearing before.

  She thought of Marta as she untied the headband and set it down on the pile with her clothes. What was she going through now? Did she regret the help that she’d given her? Noemi could just imagine her weeping out of shame and fear and jealousy—jealousy, for not being chosen; fear, for the bleak and hopeless future that awaited her; and shame, for having such evil thoughts about her sister.

  To escape her own troubled thoughts, Noemi stepped through the doorway after the stranger. The ship’s bridge lay on the other side—really, more of a cockpit than anything. An age-worn chair sat in the middle, surrounded by instruments and control panels. The three main holoscreen displays showed numerous maps and data readouts, while the wide forward window gave her a magnificent view of space.

  The starfield turned slowly, making her feel a bit dizzy. Overhead, the pocked and weathered hull of Megiddo Station stretched out like a long gray ceiling, a view of her home that she’d never before seen. As the station spun, the deep blue mass of Megiddo—known to the rest of the Outworlds as Delta Oriana III—passed into view. The small ice giant planet shone the same color as the jewel on her cross, and much brighter even though they were on the outskirts of the system. Noemi held her breath at the sight.

  The stranger glanced at her over his shoulder before returning to his work. He activated a radio, and the hiss of static filled the narrow cockpit as he made the necessary calls to depart. Through the bulkheads, the engine hummed and purred.

  This is it, Noemi thought, her body growing stiff. This is goodbye.

  The ship undocked with a groan, and the floor fell out from under her. She gasped in surprise and fell back into the doorway, jarring her shoulder.

  “Ow!”

  The cry made the stranger turn and look wide-eyed at her in alarm. He didn’t offer to help, though—only offered a sheepish apology before returning to the controls.

  The ship began to dive. The floor tilted, and Noemi slid to the base of the chair, feeling sick. She tried to suppress her nausea, but just as she began to regain her bearings, the universe itself began to spin and collapse in on her. For a briefly terrifying moment, she felt as if she had turned inside out—and then, in a flash, it came to a merciful end.

  It was all too much for her poor stomach, however. Before she could stop herself, she vomited explosively across the floor. Her heart sank as the stranger climbed out of his chair. What will he think of me now?

  He walked past her to the closet-sized bathroom, where he produced some disinfectant and a rag. Noemi blushed as he cleaned up after her, but she was still too dizzy to step in and clean up after herself. Besides, from the purposeful way he moved, she didn’t think he’d let her. As he finished up, she walked back into the cabin and sat down on the cot, pulling her knees up to her chest.

  Alone. That was how she felt. She was alone now on a strange ship with a man she didn’t know, who had every claim on her as her husband. Her family was gone, and who knew how long it would be before they put into the next port? Until then, she and the stranger were alone.

  It took him a while to finish cleaning, but once he did, he came and stood silently beside her. Noemi stared off at the opposite wall, lost in her own thoughts. After a moment, he spoke and reached up to a compartment above her. She glanced up just as he pulled out a helmet-like headpiece, attached to a retractable, swiveling arm.

  A dream monitor, she thought, recognizing the device at once. Her heart skipped a beat—here, at least, was something familiar.

  She leaned forward, and the stranger pulled up the upper half of the cot to incline it better for sitting. She parted the hair in the back of her neck to expose her neural socket, and he fitted the monitor over her head. The pin scraped a little as he plugged it in, making her fingers tingle, but it soon connected with a satisfying click. He pulled down the visor to block out the outside, and she leaned back and rested her hands comfortably in her lap.

  Is this his way of getting rid of me? she wondered, doubts rising in her mind. Perhaps. At least it gave her a chance to escape, tho
ugh—if only for a little while.

  * * * * *

  The comforting blackness of the simulator enveloped her, cutting her off from reality. A white, sleeveless dress fluttered loosely about her knees, the same dress she wore in the simulations back home. She sighed and closed her eyes as the data seeped through her awareness—long strings of silent data, invisible and yet so potent. The blackness was probably due to a system reboot, but that hardly mattered. Noemi only had to think the word, and the simulation would obey her as the universe obeyed the voice of God.

  She’d always had a knack for computer systems and data manipulation. Once, as a little girl, the lesson simulations had bored her so much that she’d hacked into the curriculum and built a talking puppy who could tell her all the answers. The teachers had scolded her for it, but they didn’t delete the puppy—instead, they had appropriated it as a teaching aid for other classes. Still, it had amounted to the same thing, and Noemi had cried over her loss for weeks.

  When she’d grown a bit older, her father had convinced her to take a job programming simulations for Megiddo Station’s dream center. That was back in the early days of the food crisis, when it still seemed like there was a way out. Her father had feared a mass exodus—or worse, an uprising—and so he wanted to give the people a virtual world worthy of anything the more-developed star systems had to offer. It was a way to pacify the people, to keep them distracted while other minds tried to solve their problems, but Noemi hadn’t known any of that. To her, it was simply a matter of pleasing her father. And she’d done very well—perhaps a little too well.

  God forgive me, she thought, crossing herself in the silent blackness. The memory of those times always saddened her—better to focus on the task at hand.

  She took a deep breath of the nothingness and slowly raised her hand. In her mind, she imagined a sunrise, and the simulation made it so. A reddish-orange star rose dimly over a deep blue horizon, much like the orbital sunrises over Megiddo. Noemi stretched out her other hand, and the speckled light of the stars surrounded her in all their constellations, appearing even before she consciously remembered them.