Chapter 8: The Nomad

Sol, equipped with her psi pin, had gone to fetch Ada, who hadn’t taken anything with her except Léon, still chained.

At the reception, the administrators of the complex had almost formed an honor guard—somewhat intimidating—for her departure. This annoyed her: by what right did they know her, feel respect for her when she knew nothing about them? By what right did they congratulate themselves on releasing her from a prison they had put her in?

Ada had let go of Sol’s hand. She walked ahead of her on one of the large bridges crowded with hurried humans and lost Xenos. This one led to the walls of the chasm, where massive storage caverns had been dug. A bridge-elevator, loading a wide Ozymandias-type ship amid swirling smoke—a sort of manta ray roughly sculpted from dark steel—carried them up to the ship platforms.

A dozen Ravens, some equipped with pods, others not, all painted in unique colors and sometimes covered in prayers. A few Ozymandias. Occasionally, a Xeno draped in a shiny cassock would ask them to change their path as a ship launched its vertical propulsion. The noise was intermittent, always violent. Singing AI-animated robots unloaded numerous goods from the pods attached to the Ravens.

In this vertical symphony, they made their way toward a black man wearing a headscarf knotted in place. He didn’t look like a conventional pilot, dressed in loose and comfortable clothing, with a tool belt slung across his body like a bandolier. From it, he drew a treat, which he ate as Ada and Sol approached. Ada noticed a sinister-looking automagn in his bandolier—a handgun.

“This is Sky, your pilot, Ada,” said Sol.

“Hey. And here’s the Nomad,” Sky replied.

He pointed to the closest Raven: a cockpit large enough to accommodate either a corpulent Xeno or two humans accustomed to planetary gravity, with a wide viewing bay at the front and two bulky engines at the rear. A standard pod—a six-meter-long, four-meter-wide, and four-meter-high reinforced plastic container—was attached to it. On its side, the word “Nomad” was painted in slanted letters alongside a disturbing face of a man striped like a tiger.

“Not the best ship in the world, but it’s the only one connecting Clelia and a few forgotten worlds to Ariel, the Distant Great Gate, and therefore the HS. Look at this.”

Opening the pod, he showed them a seat equipped with straps, surrounded by a few equally secured crates.

“It’ll do,” Sol said. “Make sure Ada gets into the hands of the Jespersen family.”

“Jespersen? Paul? I know them.”

“Is he someone important?”

“Clelia isn’t exactly a populous world, lady. Are you the one paying me?”

“Send the bill to the Calchas administration.”

“Damn, you’re a psi, aren’t you? Then read my mind. You’re screwing me over.”

“I’m reading your mind, Sky. Do you want to talk about it?”

A cold sweat immediately beaded on the pilot’s forehead. Sol, with a wicked smile, continued:

“That’s better. If you don’t care, leave the kid on the tarmac, buddy. You know how bureaucrats work ... If the carrot doesn’t suit your taste, maybe you’ll appreciate their stick.”

She leaned toward Ada while Sky tried to compose himself.

“Our paths part here. The universe is vast and full, so I think this is for good. I can read minds, so I know what you’re feeling. Let me tell you how I feel: I’m neither your mom nor your friend. I never was. I did my best to help you settle in. The universe, as I said, is vast, and you’ll meet both good and bad people. You’ll figure out where I stand as you gain experience. My mission is done, but here’s some advice: when in doubt, trust your intuition. Most people will seem dumber than you. That probably won’t just be your imagination.”

Ada said nothing more. Sol was heading toward the elevator as Sky spat on the ground, calling her a government bitch.

Solstice Jovana had had her fill of the Administrative Detention Center: nights spent psychically probing prisoners of war for their secrets, days spent taking care of Ada. She had tackled the toughest cases and done excellent work. She would get the recommendation she wanted. She had sent a prodigy to die of boredom on the other side of the universe, in a place of filth and labor where she’d be dulled, all to please a hierarchy that would rejoice in depriving Antioch of a brilliant mind. Sol was going to apply as a psi officer aboard an Endymion, and they would give her the position. And it would only be the first step.

Government bitch? Fair enough. But at least she’d see the world.