Creation (10 page)

M
emories were a problem
. There were the core memories that Sam knew, truly knew, without consciously thinking about them. Then there were the subjects like agriculture that Sam had no inkling of. His school-fieldtrip memories were filled more with Mallory Kincaid and her tight-fitting sweaters than the melons the dirt-covered agriculturalist lifted from the ground.

“Come here anytime you want.” Doc had meant the invitation to the library to sound kind, offering knowledge or entertainment. Most of the books had been reduced to computer files, but enough antique hard-backed volumes remained to fill every surface of the zero-gravity room. As he ran his fingers over the old bindings, he had an urge to pull each one out of its protective enclosure. A volume on French horticulture projected out from its neighbors far enough to catch at Sam’s fingertips. Without thinking, he found the book open in his hands. Languages had never been of any interest to him, but the hand-drawn pictures of extinct Earth vegetables had him touching the images to see if they’d been printed or actually painted. His fingers strayed onto a paragraph about the propagation of lima beans. Though all in French, he immediately knew the sentence, the paragraph, the chapter, the entire book. Had there been gravity, he’d have dropped the heavy volume. He’d not only read the book before, he’d memorized it. Apparently, he’d studied it harder than any text he could remember, because he could recite sections of pages he hadn’t even opened. This was impossible. Hurriedly, he pushed the book back into its position on the shelf only to find its neighbor in his hands—a Japanese text on bonsai trees. As he feared, this book he also knew by heart. But the author had made some mistakes when it came to fruit-bearing bonsai trees. Sam let go of the book as if it were on fire. No way should he know these things. As the book floated harmlessly in front of him, he tried to follow the memory paths back to where he’d, unknowingly, studied plants so thoroughly. Each recollection stopped at his time working on
Leviathan’s
computer.
If only school had been this easy.

He returned to village life, vowing to steer as clear of the library of horrors as possible. His brain wasn’t a place for some computer’s information dump. But the hidden knowledge, once noticed, couldn’t be ignored. When Jess struggled over why an orange tree wasn’t producing, or Doc speculated on ancient societies, Sam knew if their directions were right or wrong, but he couldn’t tell them why. Knowledge without references only made him sound arrogant. Being the village know-it-all wasn’t going to improve his standing. Best to stick with information he could defend.

The majority of his time he spent tending the plants. Yoshi would stop by, often with stories that would last the afternoon, but sometimes he left Sam on his own, with no distraction from his own thoughts. The enjoyment of getting to know someone new was better savored than taken all at once. Others stopped by, some wanting to hear about Earth or tell him their life stories or find out what the hell he was doing in their community. A great many people, including Jonathan, avoided him altogether, reminding Sam what Yoshi had said about most of them being borderline hermits.

Meals were usually with Doc and maybe a few guests, often people Doc wanted Sam to know for one reason or another. The meals had a way of nourishing Sam in more than a physical way. But Doc refrained from offering too much information about anything.

Sam’s favorite part of the day was falling asleep in Jess’s arms. Second favorite: waking up in those same arms. Like the cannabis-infused evening gatherings, days became indistinguishable from each other.

* * *

O
ne morning after breakfast
, Doc pointed to the large metal tube opposite the agro pod docked to
Leviathan.
“I’m headed over to the living quarters to unload some produce. Wanna come with?”

Three weeks learning his way around the plants left Sam jumping with anticipation at seeing civilization again, an excitement that masked an unidentifiable lurking fear. “Sure. How long will we be there? Should I pack a bag?”

“Dude, it’s like a five-minute flight. We’ll be back by lunch. Dinner if you want to stay longer.” At least Doc no longer laughed at him. Still, the humor in his eyes told Sam he’d never fully outgrow the role of village comedian.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to let my enthusiasm run away with me.”

In spite of the large pod and small number of inhabitants, it seemed no one was ever out of earshot. Doc guided Sam to a relatively quiet area of densely blooming indigo wisteria. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. We’re only offering you a place. If you want to go back to modern technological society, we’ll totally understand. I’m certain Lev can work something out for you.”

Sam was less certain that Lev could simply bring him back from the dead and plug him back into modern society, and Doc’s continued reference to the ship computer as some sort of benevolent protector continued to mystify him. “Really, Doc, I’m sorry. I never meant that to sound ungrateful in any way. I know it’s only been three weeks, and I’m still trying to feel my way around, but I do like it here.”

Doc put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, man. We’re a tight-knit group, and you’re still an outsider. Add to that the idea of living free of the conveniences you’ve known, and six months pretty much as a vegetable, it’s understandable you’d be excited about going back. Think of this as an exploration. We’ll stay one night. Lev can find us accommodations. If you want to come back, great. You know we’re growing rather fond of you. If not, well, best to find that out now before we get too attached.”

* * *

D
rifting from job to job
, Sam had never thought much about packing up and moving. Somehow, the look in Jess’s eyes as Doc maneuvered the small craft away from the airlock made the short hop seem like traveling to the other side of the solar system.

Doc spoke over the hum of the small engine. The sight of him at the controls made Sam cringe. “You have an option we should discuss before we dock with the other pod. Lev can either give you a fresh identity, basically pretend you’ve always been one of us in the agro pod, or let you be the long-lost technician come back from the dead.”

Sam didn’t think it sounded like much of an option. “I can’t imagine wanting that kind of recognition.”

“Fair enough. Lev mentioned you’ve got some money coming to you.”

Sam had no idea what Doc was talking about. He looked at Doc, confused.

“Don’t worry about it,” Doc said. “Bottom line: anything you want, just get it. Lev will deal with the monetary issue.”

Stepping out of the small craft into the living pod proved to Sam’s senses just how foreign the last three weeks, hell, the last seven months, had been. It was all so welcoming: filtered artificial light meant to calm the senses of new arrivals, a faint, clean lemon scent he knew masked the decontamination filters, and rooms of a size appropriate for normal human beings.

Xavier had performed a minor miracle on the ship since Sam had first encountered it.

A man in a white smock greeted them. “Good to see you, Doc. We’re down to synth-food for our main meals. Okay for most, but I gotta tell you, your homegrown stuff is catching on. Still a niche market, but I think you’ll be pretty pleased.” The man’s light overtones of cooking grease brought Sam back to his first day aboard the
Leviathan
, though the hint of freshness had a soothing quality that the earlier overpowering stench of the ship never had.

Doc and the other man yammered on as the crew unloaded the shuttle and the three of them walked—such a strange experience—toward the main eating area.

Doc turned to Sam. “Why don’t you hang out here? Jillian’ll serve you anything you’d like. My guess would be a good ale or a margarita might be a welcome change from Yoshi’s concoctions.”

Though still human in scale, the bar boasted a wall-long bank of windows that looked out across the length of the ship and on into approaching space. The image made for an oddly relaxing mood. Of course, the soft lighting, dense magnetic gravity carpeting, and deep plush floating chairs with their unobtrusive restraints all added to the experience.

Doc surveyed the welcoming bar. “Actually, I think I’ll join you for one. We do have some time to kill on this trip.”

No sooner had they settled into the comfortable combination of restraint and weightlessness than a table monitor lit up. Sam’s first expectation was to see a menu.

“Knock-knock.”

“Oh God, Lev, please.” Doc’s face registered actual pain.

“Knock. Knock.”

“Okay, who’s there?”

Sam looked around in confusion. “There’s no one here, just you, me, someone I assume to be Jillian behind that counter, and a handful of other customers. Who are you referring to?”

Clearly, the animated greeting, strange as it was, didn’t warrant Doc’s participation. The monitor giggled. Sam stared in disbelief. Computers didn’t giggle. And even if they did, Lev’s sense of humor certainly wouldn’t include an outward display of amusement.

Doc smiled. “Told you I knew firsthand of Lev’s sorry sense of humor. Okay, Lev, who’s there?”

“Sam!”

“Sam who?”

“Sam day you’ll recognize me.”

The somewhat suppressed giggle at what must have been a joke changed to full laughter that lasted way too long. Doc shook his head in a forced muffled laugh.

The monitor flashed lights of blue and green. “I was saving that one specifically for when Sam came for a visit. The usual, Doc? And, Sam, try one of Jillian’s margaritas. I think you’ll really like it.”

“Sounds great, Lev, and maybe some light food.” Doc gave Sam an appraising look. “Something synth, protein sticks or carb-bars.”

The light on the monitor flickered off.

Doc lounged back in the large chair. “We’re alone now. Lev’s only present when the light’s on. If she
is
still here, she won’t intrude or let on she knows what I’m saying. If you call her name, she’ll return. It’s all a little creepy, but you get used to it.”

Sam continued to look at the blank monitor. “She was so animated.”

“She wasn’t when you knew her? Being away from interconnected computers, it’s hard for me to know when they grew to sound more human. There was no one here for so long, I never had a reason to interact with
Leviathan
’s computer before Xavier did his work. Once the colonists and permanent ship crew came aboard, well, I guess I just assumed they brought Lev’s higher functionality with them.”

That didn’t seem plausible. The military had attempted to modify the onboard computer with disastrous effects. The likelihood that anyone would try anything even remotely similar didn’t sound likely. Plus… something played about the edge of Sam’s memory but never formed into a full thought. He scratched his head. “Pretty posh for a pirate ship.”

Doc looked around the cafe as if for the first time. “Xavier turned the daily operation of
Leviathan
over to a management company. Transporting colonists from one rock to another is mostly a cover, though. It lets him carry whatever he wants in the cargo pod. And we still have a trip ahead of us before we reach Chariklo, our terraformed centaur planet. Once they drop off our pods, I suspect
Leviathan
will revert to Xavier’s original plan, whatever that might be, or he’ll sell her off. Pirates aren’t big on sharing details.”

The beautiful barmaid drifted up with drinks in hand. “It’s good to see you again, Doc. It’s been too long. I hope you brought me some of that luscious fruit. My mixed drinks just aren’t the same without it. I made Sam’s margarita with the last of my limes.”

Doc beamed at her. “Not to worry, my dear. We’ve got a full shuttle of produce.”

Sam watched her in wonder. Jess and the other women of the agro pod dressed in a nice but practical way. Makeup, hairstyle, and clothes were about function, not attraction. Jillian glided about the room as if it were a dance floor, her long dress adding to the impression. Her hair trailed out, waving its greeting to each patron, her eyes and smile playfully flirtatious.