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

  “Jeremy?”

  The sound of a young girl’s voice made Noemi freeze where she stood. What was this—a projection of her own? It sounded almost like Bekka, but something wasn’t quite right.

  “Jeremy!”

  It isn’t Bekka, Noemi thought to herself. Bekka wouldn’t call for Jeremahra—she’d be calling for me.

  The voice came again, this time much closer and speaking in a language that Noemi didn’t understand. If this was another projection, it went far, far beyond anything she’d ever seen. Her blood ran cold, as if she’d heard a ghost—which in some ways wasn’t far from the truth.

  I can’t stay here, she realized. If she did stay, and the girl did see her, it would corrupt the simulation to the point where Jeremahra would know she’d been there. And if that happened—

  She waved her hand over her eyes, and the world fell away into a black, empty nothingness. To her surprise, her heart was pounding, her breathing coming in short bursts. It wasn’t just due to the residual effects, either—she felt like an emotional voyeur, as if she’d invaded one of the most private parts of Jeremahra’s mind and seen something that could never be unseen.

  But what was it, exactly? Was the forest taken from a real-world memory, or was that an emotional projection too? And what did it all mean?

  I’m sorry Jeremahra, she thought silently to herself. I’m sorry, but I’m going to come back.

  * * * * *

  The next few day and night cycles passed without any significant incident. Jeremahra spent most of the time in the cockpit, leaving Noemi to the dream monitor. They made several jumps while she was under—she could tell from the way it disoriented her while in the simulation, making the lines of data difficult to grasp. Because of the way the monitor drew out her perception of time, the sensation seemed to last much longer, almost five or ten minutes. Still, it wasn’t nearly as hard on her as it was when she was conscious.

  For the most part, they kept to separate parts of the ship. The only time she ever really interacted with him was when they came together to eat. After the awkwardness of the first night, she no longer went to bed naked, but she did change into the chemise, just in case he ever changed his mind.

  He didn’t.

  The discovery of his secret world in the dream monitor hung over her like a brilliant comet. She waited anxiously for him to plug in, to see if he’d noticed her tampering, and if so, to gauge his reaction. As much as she longed to return to the dark, mulchy forest with the mysterious girl, she didn’t want to risk making him angry—not when the nearest other people were more than a light-year away. She didn’t think he’d become violent, but there was no way to know for sure. In so many ways, he was still a stranger.

  He didn’t use the dream monitor, though—in fact, he showed no interest in it. After each meal, he often helped her to plug back in, but he never tried to take a turn himself. Was that because he didn’t trust her? Or was it his way of being courteous, to share the best he had to offer? Either way, the effect was the same. Noemi couldn’t explore his dreams without first seeing some reaction, and Jeremahra showed no interest in doing anything but feed her. And so things slowly settled into a routine—a dull, insipid routine that threatened to drive her crazy.

  She woke up after a long and tortuous night cycle and stared for almost an hour at the featureless ceiling. From all the time spent under the dream monitor, her body was so well rested that it was hard to sleep, even though she constantly felt tired. Such a frustrating way to live—she didn’t know how the lone starfarers did it.

  I don’t care anymore, she decided. I’m going to go into the simulation and find out what he’s hiding. The thought echoed in her mind like the crack of a gunshot, sending chills down her arms and fingertips. Inwardly, she felt that it was right.

  But as she swung her legs off the cot and sat up, doubts and fears plagued her. What if Jeremahra changed his mind and wanted to use the dream monitor? What if she changed things so much simply from the act of viewing that she could never get it to revert back to the way he remembered?

  I need more strength if I’m going to do this, she realized. Her hand instinctively went to the cross around her neck, but it wasn’t there—she’d forgotten that she’d put it in the jumpsuit pocket before getting ready for bed. Well. If she was going to pray, better to change out of the skimpy chemise and get into something more decent. She dressed, glancing over her shoulder to confirm that Jeremahra was still asleep in the cockpit, and hung the jeweled cross from a knob in the wall.

  She knelt by the side of the cot with her hands clasped together and bowed her head as if she were in a chapel. She wasn’t, of course, but if God could hear the prayers of the faithful at Megiddo Station as well as the famed Temple of a Thousand Suns on Gaia Nova, surely He would hear her now in the midst of the starry deep.

  Our Father who art in the heavens, she began, Lord of Earth, hear my prayer. I know that thou hast brought me here in this place for a reason, and I thank thee for it, but please, I need thy strength—

  The sound of a footstep behind her made her stop mid-sentence and leap to her feet. Jeremahra stood in the doorway, eying her curiously. She snatched the cross from the wall and hid it behind her back, but she was too late—it was clear he’d already seen it.

  Is he prejudiced against believers? It had been a long time since the persecutions of the New Apostles, but tensions in the Oriana cluster were still high—she’d heard stories that made her skin crawl. Most star wanderers had no religion, or if they did, they changed it after settling down. Still, she didn’t want to take any chances.

  He spoke quickly, his face a picture of puzzlement and confusion. When he held out his hand, she rocked back on her heels, heart pounding. The cross was her last personal possession—she would die if he took it from her. Fortunately, he relented rather quickly, walking past her and opening a wall compartment near the ceiling.

  What’s he doing? she wondered, curiosity slowly overcoming her fear. She peered around him, trying to get a better look. He pulled out a green and orange pendant and handed it to her.

  She took it gingerly from his hands and examined it. The main image was an oak leaf, with a narrow rocket ship in the center. The border was a deep orange copper, the rocket overlaid with gold. He pointed at the pendant and hastily crossed himself, as if to tell her that this was his religion.

  Well, she thought to herself, at least he isn’t upset with me for praying. But if he wanted her to pray in his way, it wasn’t going to happen.

  He looked at her expectantly, as if waiting to see her cross. She shook her head and handed back his pendant, then turned to use the dream monitor. He laid a hand on her shoulder, however, stopping her. When she turned back to him, she saw with dismay that he was holding out his hand.

  Do you really need to see it? she wanted to ask. At first, she pretended not to understand, but when she saw that he wouldn’t relent, she sighed and placed the cross carefully in his hand.

  He held it up to his face and eyed it curiously. She held her breath and wrung her hands, rocking back and forth on her feet. If he only knew how much it meant to her, this symbol of her home and her faith. It was all she had left of—

  Wait a minute, she thought to herself. What if the pendant was to Jeremahra what the cross was to her? Not just a holy artifact, but a reminder of the life he’d left behind. What if he missed his home as much as she missed hers? She remembered the lonely forest with the young girl’s voice, how she’d cried after him, and the deep pangs of homesickness that came intertwined with it.

  He reached over and hung the cross from the same knob as before. When he turned to replace his own pendant, however, she put a hand on his shoulder and held out her hand. “Not so fast,” she said aloud. “Let me see it.” His expression fell, and he scratched the back of his neck a little sheepishly, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

  He handed her the pendant, and she hung it from the knob so that it dangled beside he
r cross. The people back home might have found the juxtaposition scandalous, but if the Lord of Earth was as much Jeremahra’s God as her own, she had no doubt that He’d understand.

  As she knelt by the side of the cot, Jeremahra stood awkwardly, hesitating to join her. What’s the matter? she thought as she looked up expectantly at him. He glanced away, but before he could return to the cockpit, she took his hand and pulled him gently down. Soon, he was kneeling beside her.

  She clasped her hands together and bowed her head in silent prayer. Our Father who art in the heavens, she began again. Lord of Earth, hear our prayer. When she peeked over at Jeremahra, she smiled to see him doing the same.

  We’re not so different, are we?

  * * * * *

  The forest seemed darker when Noemi entered it again. She stepped quietly as she walked through the ferns, trying to keep as low a profile as possible. Of course, no one was there to see her, but the less she interacted with the simulation, the less it would hopefully be altered by her presence.

  Just the act of observing was enough to rewrite crucial elements of the program, however. She kept that in mind as she leaned against a massive trunk to step over a particularly complex knot of roots. The bark was rough against her skin, and bits of it flecked off onto her dress. The ground, however, was wet and soft—not at all like the grainy floor tiles of Megiddo Station. She stepped barefoot over a cluster of rocks covered in moss and made her way to a small grassy field.

  So this is Jeremahra’s birth world, Noemi thought to herself. This is what it’s like to live on a planet. It reminded her a little of her favorite simulation back home, except that the landscape was completely different.

  The twilight sky was a dark rusty color, filled with haze. A large yellow cliff jutted up only a few hundred meters away, barren of any form of vegetation. She squinted and realized that she was looking through a thick panel of glass, one that arced upward at an angle and stretched above the leafy canopy. The field ended where the glass met the ground, turning to barren wasteland on the other side. She walked over to get a closer look.

  It appeared that the forest was under some sort of planetary dome, like the ones at Gaia Nova and the Coreward Stars. This one was smaller than the ones she’d heard of, though—judging from the arc, it was probably only a kilometer or two in diameter. The ragged cliff on the other side was probably the edge of a small crater, as good a site as any for a settlement.

  “Jeremy!” the girl’s voice cried. “Jeremy, where are you?” Like a ghostly wind, it rustled the nearby leaves and sent chills shooting down Noemi’s back.

  In simulated dream worlds, the setting was largely interchangeable between users, while the characters who inhabited those worlds were projections and therefore unique to each user. However, sometimes a particularly strong projection created its own rift, like an eddy in the data stream. Over time, this rift became part of the underlying program—a ghost projection that drew from the monitor interface to mirror the one seen by the first user. To prevent this from happening, most shared networks required users to alternate between servers. The facilities at Megiddo station followed a strict rotation, and even then they occasionally needed to be wiped and reformatted. There was no telling how long it had been since Jeremahra had done that, however—and since there was only one simulator on the ship, the ghost projection had to be intensely strong.

  The girl’s voice grew louder. Noemi looked for a place to hide, but the grass wasn’t yet tall enough, and the nearest tree was too far. She was just about to make a run for it when the girl stepped out from the forest.

  At first, Noemi could see nothing but a dark hole where the girl should have been. Her presence felt like a vortex in the data, an eddy that had become a giant whirlpool. The space around her rippled, and the hole shimmered into a visual form. Noemi squinted, then gasped as her blood ran cold.

  It was Marta, her sister.

  The image lasted only for a second before the projection collapsed, but in that instant Noemi’s heart sank, and a crushing wave of guilt crashed over her. She fell to her knees, paralyzed by the sheer weight of it, and the world around her grew dark and tangled. Marta, her heart cried out, Marta, it should have been you who was chosen, not me. I’m so sorry!

  As quickly as it had come, the moment passed, releasing Noemi from its hold. Still, she made no effort to get up. She missed Marta—she missed all of her sisters something terrible. But guilt? That had to be part of the projection.

  As her breathing returned to normal, she rolled over on her back and stared up at the hazy alien sky. The simulation was based on Jeremahra’s life—that much was true. And for the rogue projection to have such a powerful influence, it must be based on a memory that tortured him. Obviously, it wasn’t Marta that he saw, but if that was the closest analogue, that would mean—

  It’s his sister, Noemi realized with a start. He left his homeworld forever to wander the stars, and he feels guilty for abandoning her.

  Tears came to her eyes, even in the simulator. What must it be like, to voluntarily leave your family, knowing that you’ll never see them again? It was hard enough for Noemi, but she didn’t have to live with the guilt of having made that choice on her own. From the beginning, it had all been outside of her control, and now she saw that that was a blessing. For Jeremahra, who still at least nominally had the option of rejecting the traditions and staying home, the guilt must be killing him.

  A ticklish sensation on her cheek made her sit up. Her presence was altering the simulation faster than her ability to revert it. She sighed and touched her thumb and middle finger together to end it. The field and forest turned to blackness—

  —and then she was staring into Jeremahra’s eyes as he gently stroked her cheeks.

  His hand tensed, and he drew it back in alarm. She blinked and shuddered, too shocked to react. After mumbling a few words, his cheeks turned bright red, and he turned to leave for the cockpit.

  “Jeremahra!” she cried, gradually coming back to her senses.

  He stopped, and she rose quickly to her feet as she pulled the dream monitor off of her head. In two bounding steps, she was standing in front of him. For an awkward moment she realized she was wearing the skimpy, semi-transparent chemise—she must not have changed from the night cycle before. It didn’t matter, though. Jeremahra’s eyes met her own, and she reached up to stroke his cheek the way he’d stroked hers.

  I’m sorry, she wanted to say. I’m sorry for your sister.

  She opened her mouth, but words failed her. Instead, she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. At first, he was as stiff and unresponsive as a statue, but gradually he began to melt in her arms. He put his arms around her, holding her close. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a heart-stopping moment, they shared a wonderful closeness that transcended words and language.

  He whispered something gentle in her ear, dispelling any last lingering doubts she’d had about him. Providence had brought him to Megiddo Station to rescue her from the famine, but it had brought her into his life for a reason as well. That much was perfectly clear to her now. All around them was death and confusion, but here in the space they shared together, none of that seemed to matter.

  She released him and stepped slowly back, her fingers tracing their way down his arms until she held his hands in her own. Her heart raced the way it had their first night together, but there was also a calmness that anchored her. You don’t have to be alone, she thought to herself. We can make it work. Come with me, and I’ll make it better.

  She pulled him gently back toward the cabin, but he resisted. A horrible sinking feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. Are you afraid to make a commitment, she wondered, or is it opening yourself up to another person that scares you? As much as she wished he would take her now—take her, and give her the security of knowing that they were together—it was clear that he wasn’t ready. When she looked into his eyes, she saw a willingness to accept her into his life, perhaps even a de
sire. But when she tugged on his arms, he held back, as if unable to break out of the prison of his guilt.

  She bit her lip and let him go, arms falling by her side. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shook his head and muttered something before returning alone to the cockpit. Noemi watched him go, wishing she could reach out and talk to him, but even if she could, that wouldn’t have lifted the impenetrable glass wall that separated them.

  Chapter 5

  I have to find a way to make a connection with him, Noemi thought to herself as she fiddled with the synthesizer. Jeremahra was in the cockpit, where he’d been the whole day cycle. She didn’t know what he was up to in there, but the time for dinner had come and gone. That was all right, though—it gave her a chance to show him what she could do. Besides, Mother always said that the best way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.

  Jeremahra didn’t have a good selection of spices, but she didn’t let that stop her. After opening every jar in the compartment and tasting a little bit of everything, she managed to mix a blend that was passable. From his stock of oil and synthetic shortening, she made a buttery extract and sweetened it with some sugar. She stirred it into the synthmeal and found, to her delight, that it greatly improved the flavor. Texture was still a problem, but by grinding up the dried fruit into powder and mixing it in liberally, it added a graininess that was much more satisfying than the normal paste. When she added the spice, it almost tasted like something from her home.

  Let’s see how he likes this, she thought, spooning it into two bowls. After taking a deep breath, she took them both and stepped through the doorway into the cockpit.