Escape Velocity: The Anthology (8 page)

      
The reader device, scraping and analyzing one coded carbon monolayer at a time.

      
The picture window, which I stared through, unseeing.

      
The Library.

      
I have frittered away my precious time; and I am alone with my pain.

Birthright

Ian Smith

Hiding in the bushes was not how Nessa expected to spend her afternoon. She tried crouching, but she wore her best school clothes and the ground was muddy. Plus there were bugs and spider webs and other such nastiness on the plant leaves. Though she could tell Mosey was uneasy with her standing there in plain sight, she wasn’t going to get herself all dirty just for him.

       “
So, what should I do?” she asked.

      
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he scanned the sky with his head cocked, like he was listening. Eventually, he said “What should you do about what?”

       “
About my conference with the principal. What do you think I’ve been talking about?”

       “
Why’re you asking me? Tell your Dad, it’s his problem.”

      
Mosey quietly chambered a round in his sniper rifle and looked through the scope at a herd of sheep grazing on the library lawn a couple of blocks away.

       “
Don’t you listen? He
hates
doing stuff like that. He’s always like —here she assumed a fake deep voice— “A man’s job is differ’nt than a woman’s, y’see. Ah’m s’posed t’ take ya huntin’ and runnin’ guns and stealin’ fuel from the military outposts. Y’know, Dad stuff.”

       “
I don’t know what else to say, Nessa.” Mosey lowered the gun. “Ol’ Braman’s the only parent you’ve got. Say, would you mind getting more out of view?”

       “
I am
not
showing up at my conference with dirty clothes. I’m already going to have to clean my shoes after standing in this muck. What are we doing here anyway?”

      
Mosey raised his weapon and shot off a round to check his sighting. The sheep scattered.

       “
Anyway,” she continued, “
you
don’t seem to be doing anything useful. So, I thought maybe you could come along and kind of represent the family.”

      
He lowered the gun then looked at her, amazed. “We’re not family.”

       “
Sure we are. You’re like a big brother to me.”

      
He shook his head. “No. We just met three months ago, when you and your old man showed up at the havens. I don’t know hardly anything about you, ‘cept that your name is Nessa, and that for some reason you’re always hanging around with me.” He ejected the spent shell and chambered a new round. “And I’ll have you know that what I’m doing here is…is defending our God-given liberties against a corrupt political system.” He returned to scanning the blue sky. “And while you’re nice enough, I can’t be getting involved with anyone right now, or probably ever. It’s time for me to be a man, and I got other responsibilities.” 

      
Nessa looked at him for a moment. “Whatever. Look, it’s time for my meeting.” She plucked her school bag out of a nearby shrub. “Sure you won’t come, big brother?” Mosey mumbled something but kept his eyes skyward. “Have fun defending the country,” she shouted back at him as she walked up the path.

      
As she left, Mosey leaped up, sighted, and fired high into the blue.

      
Some 500 yards up and away, the guidance system of an unarmed aerial spy drone shattered. The vehicle spun into a precipitous descent that climaxed in the middle of a paved soccer field. The impact rippled the grass for blocks around.

The principal’s office was drab, tidy, and decorated in a way that suggested it was done against his will. Sitting in a chair facing his desk, Nessa listened in on the muffled conversation outside the door.

       “
Her father won’t come. I’ve told you that.” It was Miss Duren, the language teacher.

      
The principal answered. “There’s no point in meeting without him. And besides, I need to get Henderson off the roof.”

       “
The biology teacher? Is he up there
again
?”

      
The principal groaned. “Look, I need to get my books. Do you still want to speak with her, even without a parent?”

       “
Yes, definitely. There are some…issues that I feel—”

      
He cut her off. “Fine. Use my office.” Seconds later the door opened and Miss Duren followed the principal into the room.

       “
Good afternoon, Nessa,” the principal said. He pulled open a desk drawer, retrieved a Bible and a copy of
Origin of the Species
, and then headed back out again. “My apologies, but I have something pressing to attend to. Miss Duren will take care of you.”

       “
Okay,” Nessa said. “Good luck.”

      
Duren shut the door and then sat in the principal’s chair. She looked the girl in the eyes for a moment, as if sizing her up. Then she pulled a packet of papers from a grungy tote bag and set them on the desk.

       “
Well, Nessa, I wanted to discuss the superb job you’re doing in school. Your language skills are impressive.” She unclipped the packet and began flipping through the pages. “And it appears—after consulting with your other instructors—that your performance in every area—mathematics, computers, political subversion—everything is just…
superior
.”

       “
Wow, that’s great to hear.”

       “
We hoped your father would join us. I see your mother has passed away—I’m sorry.”

       “
Thank you. Yes, she died when I was very young.”

       “
Tell me about her.”

      
An unexpected tack, but Nessa was up for it. “She was very beautiful and kind. I loved her deeply. Still do, I suppose.”

       “
When did you last see her?”

       “
Well, I told you she died when I much younger. I guess I was about—”

       “
No. Let me rephrase: when did she last visit you?”  

      
Uh oh
. “Um, you mean… in my dreams?”

       “
No, I think you know what I mean. When did your
angel
mother last visit you, in person?”

      
Nessa sorted her options. No one had asked so directly before. Silence was admission, perhaps, but at least it didn’t provide any details. And details were something to be guarded.

       “
I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “Sorry.”

      
A trace of bemused smile was her teacher’s only reaction. Nessa tried to maintain the expression of confused innocence she was so practiced at, but felt some defensiveness creeping into her eyes. More time passed in silence.

       “
You remember the paper that’s due Friday?” Miss Duren asked suddenly. “The one on cultural myths? Monsters, demons, celestial visitors—all meddling in human affairs, tempting, influencing, guiding. Nowadays, these myths are considered just ancient fantasies. Collective delusions we don’t believe in because we are mature people, and common sense forbids it.” She leaned across the desk. “But you are not a fantasy. You’re real.”

      
Nessa looked down to hide her eyes, which cast frantically about the room as her mind cast about for a response.

       “
I know you live in those ruins just out of town,” her teacher continued. “The ones they call ‘the havens’, for so they are—a refuge for transients, criminals, revolutionaries, and the odd lost soul with nowhere else to go. But you don’t fit that profile. Instead of an anonymous nobody, you are the best student in this institution. Perhaps the best that has ever passed through its doors.” She leaned back in the chair to play her next card. “I met your father today. He doesn’t know what you really are, does he?”

      
Nessa’s dark eyes flashed up at her teacher. “You know I’m just...”

       “
I do know who you are, or I
think
I do…Guardian.”

      
Nessa’s reply stalled on her lips. After a second’s thought her demeanor shifted again to one of academic interest. “What makes you think I’m a Guardian?”

       “
Call it an informed opinion.
Are
you a Guardian?”

       “
Maybe so. Or maybe I’m a Reaper—and maybe you’re my mark.”

      
The teacher’s smile didn’t waver. “No. You can tell assassins by their eyes—their dead eyes. Your eyes are brilliant, my dear, and just like your mother’s.”

       “
You didn’t know my mother.”

       “
True. But your father doesn’t have your eyes. He doesn’t share much with you at all, does he?”

      
Silence.

      
The teacher continued, “You are your mother’s child, through and through. Her time has passed, but you continue in her place. The calling has fallen to you. That’s quite an inheritance.”

       “
Where did you come up with all this?”

       “
I know the signs. You see, my brother was a Reaper.”

      
Nessa felt her aggression falter. “I’m very sorry,” she said at last, her eyes misting.

       “
So am I.” Miss Duren paused before continuing. “Just by its nature, your inheritance—I guess it’s more like a birthright, isn’t it? Brings with it a kind of eternal wealth. Emotional riches. Others are not so fortunate. Some inherit a grave and unjust poverty that simply deepens over time.”

      
Nessa couldn’t answer. She knew there were others like her, others with certain duties. But some of the stories she just couldn’t comprehend. Like reaching the edge of the universe, and then turning it over to see the other side, the opposite side of everything. It was beyond her imagination.

       “
Does your father know?”

       “
I have certain responsibilities to accomplish,” Nessa answered reluctantly. “He doesn’t need to know everything. I don’t think he’d understand.”

       “
No, I don’t believe he would. So what
is
your responsibility? Are you protecting someone here at the school? From what? I hope it’s not the biology teacher. I think he’s beyond even your help.”

      
Nessa laughed despite herself, but didn’t answer. Instead, she stood slowly, picked up her bag, and walked toward the door.

      
Miss Duren followed her. “A transient’s life is just what you need, isn’t it?” she said, opening the door. “You lead your father wherever you need to go; only he thinks it’s the other way around.”

      
Nessa paused on the threshold. When she turned to face this woman with whom she felt a sudden, strong, and terrible bond, her face belied an unaccustomed weariness. “My ‘inheritance’ may be the way to eternal wealth, as you say, but it’s still so hard. So unsettled. Having to
leave
…all the time.”

      
Miss Duren stepped back. “Already? You’ve only been here a few months. It’s not because of me, is it? Because I recognized you?”

      
Nessa shook her head. “No, not you. My task concludes tonight. Successful or not, I won’t be here tomorrow.” Then she laughed, thickly. “I won’t be handing in that paper on myths, either.”

Lieutenant Moyer approached the armored transport vehicle as it pulled up outside the temporary headquarters. A major climbed out, but ignored the lieutenant’s salute as he walked over to survey the dilapidated post-urban landscape before him, lit by the setting sun.

      
Moyer cleared his throat. “Sir, Reconnaissance reports this place is already wreckage, with homeless people sheltering in the cracks. Is the target worth the trouble? And what about civilian casualties? Even though they’re homeless, there’s bound to be uproar from someone.”

      
The major kept squinting into the distance. “Lieutenant, my intelligence boys are telling me that some cracker living in this dump shot down one of our observation birds. That peace-keeping device was more valuable than everything I’m looking at and everyone that lives in it. I want this place ransacked and burned until you find those responsible. And once the fire’s out, burn it again.”

       “
Yes, sir. How will we know when we find the perpetrator? I mean, among all those people?”

       “
That’s easy. He’s the one that won’t be afraid.”

In a cavity formed by the collapsed remains of an apartment block, Nessa sat quietly stirring a small pot of after-dinner tea. Her father sat nearby rehearsing excuses for the police when he was next out scavenging.

       “
Yah, I know whose it is. We’re in th’same housing sector. I’m jist borrowin’ it. Can ya help me, off’cer? I found this back o’er there—think it’s my neighbor’s.”

      
Nessa felt the rumble of a heavy engine through the wall. She stopped stirring to listen.

       “
Course it ain’t stolen!—or—How should I know if it’s stolen?”

       “
Father, I think—”