Pressure

by Travis Perry -

Ernsto slammed his palm into the airlock emergency override switch, flattening the wide red button, mechanical creaking erupting from the door hinges as it swung open, a half-meter of water still in the lock, water pouring into the hallway as he stepped out. The enforcer he’d paid off stood there, his mouth gaping open.

“Whadinell you doin’!” squeaked the man’s voice.

Ernsto glanced behind him. The angel was floundering in the draining water. The lip of the lock would keep all of it from leaving, so if it were just a matter of breathing water, he knew she’d be fine. But there was another problem—pressure. Her body was struggling to adapt between the deep ocean pressure she’d spent her whole life at and the one atmosphere of air pressure used by humans living in Zirconia—a near-vacuum from her point of view.

He’d brought her into the lock anyway. After all, the reward had been for an angel, “dead or alive.” He could ignore the waves of pain from her he could actually feel, but he found in some unexpected part of himself that he didn’t want to.

“Get me a pressure tank. Now,” he barked at the enforcer.

“You didn’t pay me for that!” The man’s blue eyes set deep into his piggish pink face widened into whites.

Ersto took three quick steps, still in his pressure suit, but his helmet off. The long knife on his belt he pulled and he held it to the man’s throat. “You will get me a pressure tank, or I will skin you alive.” His voice rasped in a whisper—he let the keen edge of the knife do all his shouting for him.

The enforcer started to move. “Hurry back or I swear by the depths, I will find you.” The man, sufficiently motivated, rushed off.

Ernsto slowly turned back toward the lock and dispassionately watched the angel flounder.

Secret Rendezvous

by Deborah Cullins Smith -

Jacian gazed through the observation window in the intimate bar he had chosen for this rendezvous. The intensity in his eyes frightened Cassie. She had just begun working in the undersea lab and now he was begging her to sneak him inside for a stroll—outside Zirconia’s walls.

“Just a quick visit,” he pleaded, turning up the dial on the quicksilver smile that usually gained him whatever conquest he sought and earned him the reputation of a playboy. “Think of it as …. A stroll in the park.” He had her backed against the window, one hand on either side of her body, his face inches from hers.

“But Jace, I could lose my job,” she protested, pushing both hands firmly against those rock hard chest muscles.

Jacian’s eyes blazed, but only for a split second. Obviously he was accustomed to girls melting into his arms. He didn’t seem to understand—or accept—Cassie’s ability to hold out against his charms.

“OK,” he said, pulling back and assuming a more business-like stance. “No romance, eh, Cassie? Holding out for an underwater lover?” His tone teased, but his eyes sparkled like two ice blue diamonds. The controlled rage she saw burning in that blue fire scared her to the core.

Reaching into his pants pocket, Jacian pulled out a wad of credits that could have supplied Cassie and her mother for the next 20 years. His eyes never left her face.

“How about it, Cassie? I’m willing to pay if this suits you better.”

She gulped and turned away from the sight of so much temptation. Her mother had contracted ash lung on the planet surface, and the medication she needed was expensive. Her father’s death benefit had provided their passage to Zirconia, but it now fell to Cassie to provide a living so they could remain in the safety of the undersea city. Jacian’s proposition could spoil everything.

Jacian’s father wasn’t the wealthiest man on Avenir, but he certainly fell within the top ten. His son learned early how to manipulate people, and he rarely ever lost in a contest of wills. How he managed to flit between the space station and the planet for these little excursions was beyond Cassie. But he had managed. And he would find a way to get into her lab too. The question was should she play a part in his scheme or let him find another gullible patsy for his plans?

“Why do you want this so badly, Jace?” Cassie whispered, turning her back on him and leaning her head against the cool glass wall. She felt Jacian loom close to her back but she didn’t turn around to meet those cold eyes—she couldn’t.

“It’s the experience I want, Cassie,” he said softly. “To go out there and try to make contact. Why shouldn’t we try to meet those creatures on their own turf?”

Cassie wanted to believe him. But even with the fistful of credits bulging in her coat pocket, she knew.

Jace was lying.

Finding Freedom

by Kat Heckenbach -


“Piper, wait up!”

The voice echoed off the metal walls of the corridor behind her, distorted by the faint mechanical hum that filled this level. Piper stopped walking and turned around. Nik was jogging toward her, face solemn.

Piper spun on her heel and continued walking away from him. Why had she bothered stopping? Jerk.

“Piper, please! I’m sorry!”

Yeah, right. Her eyes burned suddenly, and she strained, willing tears not to form.

In moments she felt the heat of his presence behind her, matching her pace. His words came nearly breathless. “Please stop. I didn’t mean it.”

Piper inhaled, clenching her fists at her side. “Too little, too late, Nik.”

“I was just teasing. I didn’t know it meant so much to you. It’s just a rodent.”

Piper slammed to a stop and rounded to face Nik. “Not ‘it’ you heartless slug! He! And he is my best friend!” Her heart pounded, sending her pulse thrumming in her ear. Tears pushed past her lids against her will, but she ignored them.

Nik’s brows knitted together and he lifted his arms as if wanting to reach out to her. But he pulled them back and crossed them in front of his chest. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. I came to help you find him.”

Piper searched his eyes and found genuine concern. She closed her eyes and nodded. Then warmth infused her as she felt his arms wrap around her shoulders. She sank into him, resting her head against his chest. “Thank you.”

He rubbed her back and she pulled away from him. He smiled down at her, his hair slipping out from behind his ear and hanging in front of one eye like a black curtain.

Piper took Nik’s hand and led him down the corridor. Tara had said she’d seen something small and brown skitter across the floor in an area just around the corner only twenty minutes ago. They reached the juncture and Piper let go of Nik’s hand. She dropped to her hands and knees. A shuffling thunk told her Nik had joined her.

They crawled around, peeking into any gaps in the metal walls, snaking around support beams.

“Here, Piper…” Nik’s whispered voice was filled with excitement.

Piper snapped her head to the side and saw Nik kneeling in front of a gap between wall panels, arms stretched out to his sides. She scooted over to him and peeked over his shoulder.

“Freedom! There you are!” She pushed past Nik and scooped the brown, furry bundle into her palms. No more than six inches from nose to the base of his tail, Freedom perched on his back legs, whiskers twitching. His long, slender tail wrapped around her fingers.

Piper touched her nose to the tiny pink one.

Nik chuckled. “You know, he’s actually kinda cute.”

Piper turned to him and smiled. “He’s the best.”

Nik bit his lip as his eyes shadowed. “He’s from the planet, isn’t he?”

Piper swallowed and looked away. Was she ready to tell him everything? Indecision roiled inside her as Nik moved closer.

“We’ve been together for seven months, Piper. I’ve never asked you about your past.”

She forced out, “I know.”

He waited in silence. She felt his gaze, imagined him staring at her profile. She closed her eyes.

“He’s from the planet, yes. So am I. My mom died when I was young. My dad was a bug hunter. He was killed. I was alone…starving. Pretty soon the traffickers had their eye on me. I couldn’t bear the thought of ending up someone’s…” Her voice cracked, but she steeled herself and continued. “I stowed away on a cargo shuttle from the planet to Avenir.”

Nik’s hand touched her shoulder…the gentlest touch she’d ever felt besides Freedom’s nuzzling. She realized tears were streaming down her cheeks. They dripped off her chin and landed on her open hands, on Freedom.

“Was he your pet while you lived down there?”

She shook her head. “I found him at the loading dock. I was sneaking around, trying to figure out how to get into the shuttle. I’d set my pack down—my last piece of lavabread was in the pocket. Freedom snatched it and ran off with it. I chased him.” Piper smiled at the memory and stroked Freedom’s fur. She raised her eyes to meet Nik’s gaze. “He led me to the rear hatch, and then straight to the perfect hiding place.”

Nik stared, amazement shimmering in his blue eyes. “So that’s why his name’s Freedom? Because—” He stopped, as if the next word had caught in his throat, and then looked down at the brown rodent in Piper’s hands and smiled.

Promotion

by Joseph H. Ficor -

Shouhei exited the shuttle. Sheba’s orbital spaceport, Carlston’s Cove, handled all incoming and outgoing traffic. Most of the station’s space was devoted to shipping the precious ore mined from Sheba to Avenir and Eclectia. The upper levels of the station housed exact copies of the luxurious staterooms of Avenir. Here, the masters of Sheba relished in the wealth that the broken world brought them.

Shouhei mentally prepared himself for a life of policing the mining settlements on the surface. He had not told his parents about his assignment to Sheba. Fear and humiliation restrained him. His folks were so proud that he had been accepted into the Enforcers. It was a rare chance to leave the dust of Adagio for a better life. Sheba was not a better life.

The Enforcer at the custom checkpoint smiled when he saw Shouhei. He looked for a moment at the crisp new uniform of the “shiny.”

“Welcome to the dump of the system,” he said with that irritating smile. “You must have pulled someone’s chain the wrong way to be sent here.”

Shouhei said nothing. He gave the cynic his ID card.

Cynic inserted the card into a slot in his terminal.

The cynic’s smile melted into a scowl as he read the screen.

He pulled the card from the computer and thrust it and a station map at Shouhei.

“Follow the map to Upper Level Six.”

“What?” Shouhei just stood dumbfounded. I’m not going to the surface? Why?

“Upper Level Six, Shiny!” Cynic shouted.

Shouhei’s confusion blazed like the exposed interior of the world below.

Cynic clarified, “You’ve been assigned to Governor Bokkasa’s personal security detachment. Now move along! Next!”

Shouhei moved along.

Replacement

by Walt Staples -

Douay Charles Maria hesitated at the cell’s door. He made to knock but allowed his fist to hang in mid-air. His indecision was broken by a voice from within, “If you are coming in, come in then. I don’t bite—at least not as I’ve just been fed.”

The Bible took a breath and pushed the door open. Brother Eustis sat in a rocking chair facing the door. His blind eyes gleamed whitely in the near darkness. “Yes?”

The younger man said, “It is Charles, Brother.”

The ancient man’s face broke into a wide grin. “Charley! It’s good to hear your voice again. Oh.” He reached to the side and turned up the lights. “Forgive me, my boy. I’ve lived so long in the dark I forget others don’t have my blessing.”

“Blessing, Brother?”

The old friar chuckled. “Lose one of the seven senses, and the others become more acute, supposedly to compensate for the lost one. Personally, I don’t buy it. Brother Ignatius Mary lost all sense of smell and taste back when he worked in the smelting works, before taking the cowl. He still managed to trip over things.” He smiled in apparent fond memory. “Only man I know who could trip over a beach.” After a moment, he went on, “No, I think it’s just the lack of distraction.”

Douay Charles smiled at the picture just described. “Perhaps.”

Like many of the blind, Brother Eustis kept his face toward his guest as much as possible when talking. “I heard you landed yesterday about Terce. Why so long coming to see me?”

“Well, I…I, er…” The Bible let it peter out.

Brother Eustis smiled at him. “You were embarrassed by the fact that you’ve been recalled to be my replacement. Not so?”

The other looked at the floor. “Yes, Brother, I’m afraid it is.”

The elderly friar laughed. “Charley, Charley. It’s not like you’re speeding me to my grave. The good Lord and Father Time are doing that between them just fine.” He pointed in the direction of an armchair. “Take a load off. No, quite the contrary, I am extremely happy you’re here.”

The chair made a squeaking “whoof “ sound as the Bible settled into it. “You are?”

“Oh, yes, quite happy. Look, you and I both know I’m not going to see the Feast of St. Paul Tong Buong. That’s why I asked specifically for you.”

Douay Charles looked at him with surprise. “You did?”

Brother Eustis snorted. “You don’t think the Abbot came up with your name on his own, do you? Abbot Mary Chuck de Yeager, O.F.M. is a saintly man, a thoughtful man, and probably one of the greatest leaders this abbey will see, but he knows nothing of teaching new Bibles. I think the fact that his novice master chose to give him the name of the patron of spacers is probably an acknowledgement that the future Abbot Chuck was no man of letters. On the other hand, he’s smart enough to listen to those who do know.”

The Bible grinned at his old teacher. Blindness may have come upon him with the decades, but he still saw quite clearly.

“Beating one’s gums tends to be thirsty work. So’s having to listen to said beaten gums. Would you join me in a cup of tea?” He raised an admonishing finger. “And none of that ‘Are you sure there will be room for both of us?’ mind you. I remember your rather questionable sense of humor.”

Douay Charles laughed. “Yes, thank you, Brother. I would like a cup.”

Brother Eustis touched a button on the arm of his chair. A young voice issued from a speaker, “Yes, Brother Eustis?”

“Tommy, could you see if Brother Trout still has some of the Jerusalem Mint tea? And if he does, would you ask if he would mind making a couple of cups for us?”

“Right away, Brother.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” The old man smiled. “He’s one of our James; has about a standard year to go. Brother Levi tells me he’s probably going to be one of the best.”

The Bible grinned. “Do the other manuscripts still call them ‘Kings?’”

The Brother chuckled. “And since when do things change in the Church? After all, we Douays are still referred to as ‘Rhemis.’ Though for the life of me, I have no idea where the word comes from or what its original meaning was. But enough old times.” He changed the subject, “You have work to do, Charley. We have one Douay, Bede, who is close to publication. I expect by Advent, he’ll be ready .”

Douay Charles nodded. “I remember my publication. One minute, I’m a manuscript. Then Archbishop Patel passes the candle flame under my hand and I’m a Bible. Who’s celebrating Bede’s?”

“Bishop Guash.”

“Um, better than nothing I suppose. What about the younger manuscripts?”

*

There were a number of sniffles and red eyes among the manuscripts, especially the Douays, as the abbey’s congregation left the chapel. Brother Charles—formerly Douay Charles—-and Manuscript Bede lagged behind. Bede glanced back at the entrance of the crypt. He sniffed and ran a finger under his eye. The erstwhile Bible placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I miss him too, son.”

“Douay—“ He stopped. “Sorry, Brother Charles. I’m not used to you not being a Bible anymore, I guess.”

“Bede, I’ll always be a Bible, just as you will always be a manuscript. It’s a part of us that never goes away. The good man we just laid in the crypt was a Manuscript, a Bible and a Brother. Lord willing, and I think he probably is, Eustis will also be a saint.” He put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “Our calling, yours, mine, and our teacher’s was to be the Living voice telling man that no matter how bad things are, there is still hope. Once upon a time, Bibles were on paper only and people burned them. That’s why the candle flame during publication; to remind us what may be involved in carrying the Word.” He released his hold and the two of them genuflected and left the chapel.

Beginning of a Dream (FLASHBACK)

by H. A. Titus -

Ten-year-old Pieter Kinsrol flinched as the sharp, tinkling crash indicated that yet another bottle had been thrown against the wall.

"I said to get me some of the old stuff. I'm not drinking this garbage."

Pieter crept to the door of his closet-sized room—a luxury even for the rich on Avenir—and closed it softly. He could still hear his father railing against the servant, the politicians, the Peacekeepers, and anyone else who had offended him lately, but at least it was muffled.

Pieter sat on his bed and pushed the metal window blind to the side. Having a window was, again, a product of his father's wealth. He smiled and pushed his fist against the glass, then splayed his fingers so his entire hand pressed against the cool, smooth surface.

To him, this was how space would feel. Smooth, cool.

Quiet.

Pieter stared down at Eclectia. How would it feel to traverse that rough, red surface?
A transport ship came into view. The metal hulk swung around, surprisingly graceful despite its bulky lines and behemoth size, and bright blue blazed from the thrusters on the back.

Pieter grinned. Forget traveling on the surface. Someday, he'd fly.

Rude Awakening

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

An earthquake rattled Celeste awake. She sat up and slapped the switch on the wall, filling the room with dingy light. A ceramic figurine skittered in a frantic dance across the top of the dresser before toppling over the edge. She leaned out and caught it, barely.

The walls still shook; this was stronger than the usual tremor. Celeste looked up at the familiar crack in the plaster ceiling of her room. It was expanding, shrinking, shifting, expanding again.

Flailing out of bed, Celeste grabbed her boots and hurried into the hall in socked feet. Evidently her fellow tenants had the same thought. The bedraggled crowd jostled to the end of the hall, down the stairs, and through the front-room towards the outside door. The front-room windows revealed gritty morning light but faced away from the mountain, which was what everyone wanted to see.

Outside, Celeste squinted through agitated clouds of ash as she hurried around the side of the tenement house to get a look at the volcano. It felt like the quake might be calming down, but there could still be an eruption coming.

A column of smoke towered above the mountain’s cone, fanning out against the atmosphere in an ever-widening blanket. Sheba’s halves were black shadows near the edge of the smoke-cloud.

The quake stopped. Sirens signaled the closing of Adagio’s watergates, but the mountain seemed to be quieting down—or gathering itself for a blast. Either way, it didn’t matter much.

People around her began groggily making their way back inside, and Celeste decided she might as well get some more sleep. No way was she going up that mountain today. She looked down and realized that in addition to her boots, she was still holding the figurine that had fallen off of the dresser—a white-robed girl with a benevolent smile, and a pair of silver wings growing from her back.

Mom had called it an angel; smiled at it, even talked to it. She’d said it represented real angels watching out for them. Celeste looked around her. The idea of angels didn’t seem very likely. But…

She looked back down at the figurine. “Don’t go trying that nose-dive thing again—just in case.”