Janet Edwards: Earth Star

Issette says I can go totally wild sometimes. We’re both 18, and we were in Nursery together and had neighbouring rooms all through Home and Next Step, so Issette knows all the mad things I’ve done ever since I was two years old and locked evil Nurse Cass in the linen store room.

I did some crazy things at the start of 2789, and I wrote a book about it for the norms, the ones who can portal to any world in any sector, to tell them what it’s like to be me. I’m among the one in a thousand who lost out during the roll of the genetic dice. We’re the Handicapped, born with an immune system which can’t survive anywhere other than on Earth. We get portalled there at birth to save our lives, and 92 per cent of parents turn their backs and walk away, leaving their reject kid to be raised as a ward of Hospital Earth. We’re in prison and it’s a life sentence.

I used the Handicapped word there. That’s what the polite people call us, but others use words like ape, nean, and throwback. The Handicapped have a rude word for norms too. We call them exos, after the people who headed for the stars during Exodus century and left Earth to fall apart.

So, I wrote a book about how I lied my way into a class of off-world pre-history students who were on Earth for their compulsory year working in the ruins of the ancient cities. I convinced them I was a norm, fell in love, got caught up in the rescue of a crashed Military spacecraft during a solar super storm, and was awarded the Artemis medal.

When I stood in the middle of Earth Olympic Arena, with the Artemis medal on my shoulder, I thought that was the end of my story, but it turned out to be only the beginning of something much bigger. Military Security have stolen my first book and locked it away in some highly restricted section of Military records. They may eventually decide it’s safe to let that much go public, but I’m absolutely sure they won’t let people know the whole truth about what happened next. I’m still going to write about it though.

I know it sounds completely stupid to waste my time writing something that no one except stuffy generals will be allowed to scan, but I’m a history student and what happened is part of history now. In a few centuries’ time, another historian may be scanning this, finally learning the full truth behind the reassuring official announcements, and discovering the living and breathing people behind the names.

I’m Jarra Tell Morrath, I’m an Earth girl, and this is my story.

‘Jarra, Jarra, Jarra!’ Issette’s face on my lookup screen wore her best buggy-eyed, astonished expression, the one she’d been practising ever since we were in Nursery together. ‘Why are you calling me now? Isn’t it the middle of the night in Earth America?’

I giggled, set the lookup to project her image as a holo floating in midair, and sat on the edge of my bed facing it. Only Issette’s head and shoulders were visible, but that was enough for me to see she was wearing a scanty sleep suit with a trimming of glitter-strewn lace. Issette was on a Medical Foundation course in Earth Europe, the home of interstellar standard Green Time, so it wasn’t quite eight o’clock in the morning there.

‘I’m not at the New York ruins any longer. My class has just moved to Earth Africa, so I’m on Green Time plus two hours.’

Issette yawned. ‘Why didn’t you choose something civilized for your Foundation course? You could have stayed in one place and had proper accommodation, instead of moving around dig sites and being wedged into primitive domes with a lecturer and twenty-nine other students. You even have to share bathrooms. It’s not hygienic!’

I didn’t reply, just pulled a face at her. Issette was my best friend. I’d explained to her hundreds of times how much I loved history, especially the days of pre-history when humanity had only existed here on Earth instead of being scattered across more than a thousand planets in six different sectors. I’d told her about the thrill of excavating the ruins of the ancient cities, never knowing whether you’d find a stasis box containing treasures from the past, or clues to the knowledge and technology that humanity lost in the mad rush off world in Exodus century and the resulting Earth data net crash. Issette never really understood, any more than I understood her interest in medicine.

She groaned. ‘I know, I know. You’re obsessed with history and dig sites. You always were and … Wait a minute. If it’s ten o’clock in Earth Africa, shouldn’t you be doing something hideously dangerous and uncomfortable on a dig site, or listening to some boring lecture? You keep telling me your lecturer is a slave-driver.’

I grinned. ‘We should be, but Lecturer Playdon had to delay starting work. He’s lost twenty-six of the class.’

A disembodied hand appeared in the holo image, offering a glass of frujit, and Issette grabbed it and started gulping it down. The hand withdrew and was replaced by Keon’s head.

‘How does a lecturer lose twenty-six students, Jarra?’ he asked. ‘I know you’re in a class of off-worlders, but surely even they can stroll through an inter-continental portal to Africa without getting lost.’

I was grazzed at the sight of him. Keon and Issette were part of my substitute family; the nine of us who’d grown up together through Nursery, Home and Next Step after being abandoned at birth by our parents because we were Handicapped. We’d all turned 18 last Year Day, and these days Keon and Issette had a Twoing contract, so I wasn’t surprised to find them together. My shock was because of Keon’s clothes.

‘Why is the legendarily lazy Keon Tanaka awake and properly dressed before eight in the morning?’ I asked. ‘Those are new clothes, aren’t they? You’ve even combed your hair!’

He groaned. ‘That’s your fault, Jarra. Issette wants me to show my light sculptures to someone.’

I frowned. ‘I don’t see how that’s my fault.’

‘She was copying the way you order everyone around, so it was less effort to agree than to keep arguing with an imitation Jarra. I don’t know how your boyfriend stands it.’

I was indignant. ‘I don’t order anyone around, and especially not Fian!’

‘Of course you do; now answer my question.’

I’ve learned over the years that arguing with Keon is a bad idea. Most of the time, he ignores you. The rest of the time, he comes out with a single devastating sentence that proves he’s about ten times smarter than you are. Like the time our scary science teacher at school ranted at him for fifteen solid minutes for not doing his homework, and he finally yawned and said he’d been confused by the difference between the fundamental equation of portal physics stated by Wallam-Crane back in 2200, and the one she’d written at the start of the homework. Then he asked if it was simply a mistake, or if she’d made a key discovery that contradicted all the portal theories accepted by every scientist for nearly six hundred years.

It’s much more fun to watch that sort of thing than to be Keon’s target, so I didn’t argue, but it took me a second to remember what his question had been. ‘Oh, the lost students. When we left New York, we had four days break before starting work here, so most of the class portalled off world to visit their families. We were all supposed to arrive at our new dig site dome between seven yesterday evening and ten this morning Earth Africa time. Fian and I were the only ones to show up yesterday, and only Lolia and Lolmack have arrived so far today. It’s weird. When Fian and I went into the hall for breakfast, we were expecting everyone to be there, but it was just like the Marie Celeste .’