John Moralee - Future Imperfect - A Collection of Science Fiction Stories

“Uncle, it’s my life to lead. My life to risk. If my mom and dad had not risked their lives, the whole ship would have been destroyed. I want to do it, Uncle, and you can’t stop me.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry for interfering. You’ll be a great member of the squad. I am a fool for trying to stop you.”

“I am so mad with you. You’d better apologise to Kai and mean it.”

“He’s a good boy,” her uncle admitted. “He’s got guts standing up to me. I admire that. He will be more than welcome at dinner any day.”

Aweek later Mazina joined the class of new recruits in an airlock, putting on her first gecko suit. She thought of her parents, but she was not afraid. Riko pressed a button to depressurise the chamber before the doors slid open and revealed the hard vacuum and the distant stars. Mazina took a deep breath. Far away, another world awaited the arrival of Paradise Saved, and it was her duty to make sure it got there safely.

She grinned at the other recruits, thinking one thing:

Here we go.

1763 YEARS AFTER THE GALACTIC UNIFICATION.

Terminus was always busy on the thirteenth day of the week. That was Market Day in Canyon Falls, when thousands of alien races came to our world, bringing new wares to sell in the lower city.

Dressed in a grey suncloak, hiding my face under its cowl, I struggled to follow my cousin Paulo through the dense crowd, my eyes stinging in the midday suns, wishing I was inside where it was cool and quiet. Paulo was also wearing a suncloak, but his was bright red and blue. Designer fractal patterns shimmered on the sleeves, like a peacock’s plumage. In my drab clothing, I was practically invisible, the way I liked it, hiding in plain sight – a sidekick to my more extroverted cousin.

The market was on the east side of Canyon Falls, standing on a vertiginous promontory above the turbulent river fed by the Great Falls. Paulo stopped at every market stall, touching the strange foods with his bare hands, laughing whenever something weird happened, like a fruit tried to bite him. Several alien traders barked at him in their native languages, warning him to keep his hands to himself, but Paulo ignored them. He was afraid of no-one and nothing. At eighteen and a new recruit of the Protectorate Navy, he acted impetuously, dragging me along like a little girl, though I was only a few months younger and soon to graduate as a Nova Guild apprentice.

I didn’t mind the market on normal days, when local farmers and craftspeople sold their wares, but whenever aliens travelled to Terminus, life became a hubbub of consumer madness. Once every twenty days, the planet orbited the rotating black hole at the heart of the system, powering the gateways to maximum, linking our world through hyperspace to the other galaxies spread far and wide across the universe, allowing trade and tourism, making those days a special event for most inhabitants. For a few hours, the length of time the Nova Guild’s navigators could keep the gateways open, citizens rushed to buy new things before the traders returned to their home worlds.

Not me, though.

I hated Market Days because they reminded me of what had happened to my eight-year-old sister, Marila.

One day, during the summer holiday, when I was thirteen, my parents gave me the task of babysitting her. They expected me to play with Marila in our rooftop garden and keep her amused – but I soon got bored and left her to read indoors. For weeks Marila had wanted to see the Dance of Seven Elements performed by a troupe of Traliad airwalkers, but our parents had never had the time to take her. That morning Marila entered my bedroom and begged me to go with her to see the show. I refused, because I had already seen the airwalkers. I didn’t want to watch their show twice. Selfishly, I wanted to stay indoors reading Daphor’s poetry, leaving my sister bored and restless. It was a mistake. Without my knowledge, Marila sneaked out of our home and went alone to the lower city.

She never returned.

At the time the local authorities made some inquiries with the alien delegations, but no useful answers were forthcoming. Her disappearance remained a mystery that still haunted me five years later.

To many citizens of Canyon Falls, the area around the market was an exotic wonderland of narrow streets and secret places. To me, it was a dangerous, lawless zone. Moving through the crowd, I was more frightened than excited by all of the strange sights and sounds. My heart was pounding, sweat running down my neck. Something buzzed past my face with green leathery wings. Then something scarlet and wet dripped on my cowl. I shivered despite the heat. My skin crawled. Every part of my body screamed to get out of there. I grabbed hold of Paulo. “Please. Let’s leave.”

“Try enjoying yourself,” Paulo said. “Everything is amazing here. Do you hear that gragio music? I want to buy a unique love song for Min’s birthday.”

Dust, dirt and noxious vapours assaulted my senses wherever we went, but Paulo seemed unperturbed by the chaos. Undisturbed by my reluctance, Paulo dragged me onto a rickety walkway leading to a second, temporary market perched precariously over the Great Falls. Traders were selling things illegal on most civilised planets – memory wipers, bi-tek coders, extreme cybernetic augmentations, even slave drones. A big grin formed on Paulo’s tanned face, white teeth shining in the harsh sunlight. He grabbed me by my shoulders and turned me in the direction of a display of greasy slug-shaped fruits that smelled like burning rubber and diesel fuel.

“Veya, check these out!”

“No, thanks. They look vile.” Each fruit pulsated as though squirming with maggots. “What are they?”

“Kranix plungs.”

“Ugh! They look toxic.”

“No. They’re safe for humans. Ripe ones are supposed to taste like melting plastic, but they make you feel like you’re floating on a cloud. I’m buying one.”

Paulo spoke a few words to the purple-skinned Kranix lurking in the shadows. The alien’s long, multi-hinged jaws clacked in reply. Paulo thumbed the credit tattoo on his wrist and sent eighteen universal credits to the vendor’s account. Once the transaction was verified, Paulo lifted a plung to his mouth, biting off a squelchy chunk.

“Oh, wow! It tastes disgusting!” He chuckled and ate some more, grimacing with each swallow. “Yes, it is absolutely horrible!” His pupils dilated as the opiates affected him. His next words were slightly slurred. “I’m getting a taste for this stuff. Want to try it? It’ll make you feeling immortal.”

“No,” I said, pulling away from him. “Why would I want to try something disgusting? I just want to get to the guildhall for my training. My mentor expects me on time.”

The guildhall was beyond the market square in the quieter southern quarter of the city, higher up the canyon’s side. It had been built a billion years ago by the unknown alien race that created the gateways. The direct route was blocked by a thousand market stalls, selling goods from countless worlds. Ten thousand humans and aliens were crammed into the lower city, eagerly seeking bargains and new experiences. I could hardly see the guildhall’s sixteen golden spires over the crowd pushing and shoving me. Someone elbowed me in the ribs. Hands brushed against my robes, trying to touch my breasts or steal something from me. I slapped them away, blushing, loathing this awful place. I was surrounded by perverts and thieves. I cursed my cousin for dragging me into this hell-hole against my will. I would rather have walked the long way over the six bridges.